


you watch the stars

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Football, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd told himself not to get swept up by the media, not to get his hopes up. But it's real. He's going to the World Cup and playing for his country and it's all a bit overwhelming, to be honest. "I'm going to play in a World Cup," he says slowly, letting it really sink in.</p><p>World Cup AU where everyone plays for England, even Niall, and there's a liberal artistic licence in how far England can really go in the competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you watch the stars

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't even remember how this came about, but I definitely know it's Hela's fault for encouraging me. I've attempted to give every pairing equal weight, although it might seem a bit Lilo heavy to start with. This is pure self-indulgence, and I'm truly sorry.
> 
> This is one of those annoying POV change fics, but I hope it's clear when it changes and why.
> 
> Also, this is just porn. There's very little plot. There's very little football. There's a lot of sex. It's polyamorous OT5, so it's all the boys loving all the boys. Every single pairing. Just so you know.
> 
> Major thanks to [Hela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vastlyunknown/pseuds/vastlyunknown) for the beta, I love you very much even though you're terrible.

Liam puts the phone down carefully on the table and takes a moment for himself before he spins around to grin at Andy, who's standing in the middle of Liam's ridiculously big house, barely furnished even though he's lived there for over a year.

"You're in the squad?" Andy asks, holding his breath.

Liam nods and he's buried in a bear hug, falling down with Andy tumbling on top of him as they both start laughing, relief and absolute elation filling the room.

"You're going to the fucking World Cup, mate," Andy says in reverence before he reaches down to smack Liam's arm hard.

"Ouch," Liam mumbles as he rubs the wound and shoves Andy off of him. He can barely believe it, no matter how many articles he'd read in the past three months saying he was a sure thing for the England squad. He'd told himself not to get swept up by the media, not to get his hopes up. But it's real. He's going to the World Cup and playing for his country and it's all a bit overwhelming, to be honest. "I'm going to play in a World Cup," he says slowly, letting it really sink in.

"Everything you've ever wanted mate," Andy says quietly, because Andy might be a bit crap sometimes but he knows Liam better than anyone, seeing as they've been friends since before Liam can remember. Andy knows how many hours Liam's spent training, first to get into the Youth Team at West Ham before he got signed to Tottenham Hotspur as a 17 year old kid, eager and desperate to prove himself. And now, at 20, he feels like maybe he's managed to do that. Maybe he's finally going to be able to show the world exactly what he can do with a football at his feet. It's going to be a young team from what the manager's said and he's not played with half of them before while wearing an England shirt, but he's played against them all in the Premiership over the past three seasons.

It's a team that can really fucking do things, if they can all get on the same page and work together, which is something Liam's spent a lifetime training himself to do. He quickly realised when he started playing that team members change and tactics change, but the team aspect remains and Liam's always been a team player.

"Hey, did he mention who else is on the team?" Andy asks, nudging Liam out of his thoughts.

Liam aims a wry smile at his oldest friend and leans into his shoulder for a second, needing to feel something familiar. "Yeah. Louis' on the team too."

Andy stares back at him for a second before he rolls to his feet and hauls Liam up, heading for the kitchen and reaching for a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Think this calls for a drink, mate."

Liam watches distractedly as Andy pours two generous glasses of amber liquid before he grabs a can of coke and tops both drinks off. He's not sure if it's a drink of celebration or commiseration, but he raises his glass to toast with Andy before he knocks it back in one. And wonders how the hell he and Louis are going to play for the same team without killing each other.

*

"Well?" his mum asks nervously, her voice wobbling slightly in that one, tiny syllable word. Louis turns, phone still in trembling hands. He can't seem to form words, but apparently the smile on his face is enough to find himself with an armful of his mother and Doris, while Dan and Ernest grin from behind her and the rest of his sisters yell and cheer and it's perfect mayhem.

God he loves them all so much.

"I'm playing for England, Mum," he murmurs, quiet enough for just her to hear. Doris gurgles happily between them, making him laugh before he buries his head into his mum's shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," his mum whispers. "You deserve this, okay? You deserve every good thing that ever happens to you and don't let anyone tell you different."

Louis says nothing, but he has to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. Everything he's ever wished for and wanted is now his, after one short phone with the gaffer. He now just has to prove to everyone, including himself, that he's worthy of the trust that's been placed in his hands. That he can be good enough to play for his country.

Even if he does have to figure out how to play side-by-side with Liam fucking Payne.

"Hey, is that cute new guy in the team?" Daisy asks him, pulling him away from his mum's warm embrace. "The one that plays for Man U?"

"Malik?" Louis guesses, reaching down to pull a strand of his hair teasingly. She nods eagerly. "Yeah, I think the boss mentioned his name."

"God he's so fit," Lottie says, standing beside Fizzy as they start giggling with dreamy-eyed expressions on their faces. "Will you get us an autograph? Maybe a picture?"

"I'll see what I can do," Louis says dryly as he tugs Daisy into a hug before he starts tickling her, laughing when she squeals and tries to wriggle away. "While I'm, you know, trying to win a bloody World Cup."

Of course, getting Zayn's autograph could be slightly problematic considering the last time they met, Louis tackled him slightly too late and brought him down unfairly. He'd offered his hand straightaway with an apology that Zayn had accepted, but there was a moment when Zayn's hand slid into his that Louis forgot he was on a football pitch for a second, with cameras and fans in the stands, their teams watching and their entire backroom staff glued to every moment. Because Zayn had looked at him and smiled and he'd understood far too clearly in that moment why his sisters were infatuated. He'd understood why Zayn had modelling contracts on the side.

And yeah, maybe when he got home he might have pictured Zayn while he wanked in the shower, something he tries really hard not to do with anyone he plays with or against because he has very strict moral and personal rules about that kind of thing.

He's going to have a hard enough time being around Liam and his stupid face as it is. Having a tiny crush on Zayn Malik could really fuck things up if he's not careful.

*

Zayn's having a very small, very personal panic attack. He's grateful no one is around to witness it, to hear him scream and jump up and down and box the air because he's going to the fucking World Cup and he's playing for England.

He allows himself this one minute to freak out because he'd never thought it would happen. He'd deliberately not let himself want this, afraid of what he'd do if he'd let himself want this and then not received the call. But the manager is naming him in the squad. He's getting his chance.

Zayn celebrates by racing though his ridiculously expensive, far too big house and grabbing his phone to call every person he wants to share this moment with. His dad is even more excited than he is, his mum is tearful and proud, his sisters want to know if they can get tickets and obviously he'll pay for their flights, yeah, which gets an eye roll from him even as he makes a note on a discarded envelope in his kitchen to sort something out for them. Danny and Ant mostly just yell and scream at him on speakerphone while Zayn laughs and maybe pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming.

"So you're gonna play with the big boys then," Danny says when they've all calmed down a bit. "I guess Payne and Tomlinson are on the team."

"Yeah they are." He remembers meeting Louis Tomlinson on the pitch, that moment they touched hands in the most innocent of ways but that he still remembers, months later. He hopes that's not going to be a problem, but it could be complicated and he doesn't need complicated. Not when he's got the most important month of his entire life to get through. "The manager's called up that Styles kid from Liverpool too."

"The new kid? He's got some speed definitely," Ant muses. "You played against him last month, right?"

"He runs around the pitch like an fucking puppy." Zayn's amused just thinking about it. Harry Styles was young and eager to just get out on the pitch and play. Zayn can relate to that, even if he's never had the endless stamina to do it. He's more of a counter attack kind of player. "He never tires. But he's seems okay."

"Tenner says Zayn finds out if he tires somewhere other than on the pitch," Danny says quickly, before Zayn hears giggles. He rolls his eyes and stretches his arms above his head, fighting a yawn. Finding out they're going to the World Cup really takes it out of a person, Zayn reckons.

"You two are the worst mates ever," Zayn says fondly. "I'm not shagging Harry Styles."

He hangs up a few minutes later, Danny and Ant still laughing about Harry when he turns his phone off, ignoring the texts he's being bombarded with as he sits down heavily on his sofa and allows himself another smile.

He's going to the motherfucking World Cup.

*

Harry wonders if Gemma's got any feeling left in her hand. He's been squeezing it for the entire phone conversation and he thinks maybe she yelped about halfway through, but she's been quiet ever since.

"Thanks, boss," Harry says finally before he puts his phone down and turns to Gemma, finally letting go of her hand as he sweeps her up in his arms and twirls her around.

"Let me down you idiot!" she laughs, hands wrapped around his neck for support. "You'll fall over and injure yourself, then how will you play in the World Cup?!"

He laughs once, loud and bright before he lowers her back to the ground, hands still wrapped around her as he leans in to brush a kiss against her cheek. "Can you believe it?!"

"Not really," Gemma teases lightly. She reaches up to tangle her fingers in his loose curls, freed from the headband he usually wears during matches, and tugs gently. "My baby brother, clumsiest boy in all of England, playing football for the national team."

"Heyyyy!" Harry's not really offended, not when it's a fair assessment, but _still_. "Be nice. I'm having a moment."

Harry feels himself being pulled into a tight hug and he buries his head into Gemma's shoulder, mostly getting a mouthful of hair but he doesn't mind.

"I'm so proud of you," Gemma whispers, and Harry squeezes her tighter. "You're going to be great out there."

"You'll come out, right?" Harry whispers back, like if he says it quietly then he won't feel so stupid asking his big sister to come and metaphorically hold his hand. "I'll set you up with one of the single guys on the team if you like."

"Yeah, there's nothing more I'd like than to become a WAG," Gemma says dryly, stepping back and shaking her head. "Not really my scene, Harry."

Harry grins at her, amused. "But you'll still come, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it, baby brother," she answers, pushing his phone back into his hands. "Now call Mum. She'll be pacing up and down the house waiting to hear."

"She'll probably be more excited that Niall Horan's been called up too," Harry grumbles but he scrolls through his recent contacts to find his mum's number. "Decided to play for England after all."

"Why would she be excited about Niall Horan playing for England?" Gemma asks in bemusement as Harry lifts his phone to his ear and shrugs carelessly.

"She thinks he's cute. Doesn't everyone?"

*

Niall scowls at his phone before he throws it down on the table and picks up his pint, downing half of it before he catches sight of Bressie and waves him over.

Bressie slides into the empty seat opposite and steals Niall's beer, downing the rest of it with an unrepentant grin. Niall just rolls his eyes and catches the bartenders eye and gestures for two more pints.

"So what's got you all moody and gloomy, Horan?" Bressie asks, nudging Niall's foot gently with his own.

"Got called up for England," Niall says miserably as two pints appear on the table. He smiles wanly at the bartender before he curls his hand around the cold glass and leans forward, shoulders hunched.

"We've been through this, Chief," Bressie says lightly as he leans forward too and lowers his voice. "It's an honour and you will go out there and wear that white shirt with pride, okay?"

"Should be green," Niall mutters, his mouth tightening.

"Come on, Niall," Bressie says more firmly. "Suck it up. Playing for England is the best thing for your career, remember? It gives you an actual shot at playing with and against the best players in the world. Everyone knows you love Ireland, you never shut up about it, Jesus. But if you turn up to training on your first day with a face like a smacked arse and bitch about playing for England, you'll spend your first World Cup on the bench and probably won't get called up again. You've been given a massive honour here mate, you should start acting like it."

Niall grimaces, mostly because he knows Bressie's right. He looks up and gives him his best sad eyes. "Fine. But I've still got two weeks before I leave for training."

Bressie laughs and gives Niall a gentle shove. "You're such a big baby. Okay, you can bitch and moan about being Irish for a week and a half. Then you need to get the fuck over it and get in touch with your English side. Deal?"

Niall lifts his pint glass and tips it towards Bressie, who clinks it with his own. "You've got yourself a deal, Brez."

*

Liam's one of the first to arrive at the training camp in Portugal. He's already seen the manager and got the schedule, relieved that they don't have to start training until the next morning so he's got a whole free day to laze around before the hard work starts. He dumps everything in his room, has a quick shower and grabs his phone before he heads downstairs to laze by the pool for a few hours.

He's humming through a Drake song when a shadow falls over him. Opening his eyes, he sees Louis grinning down at him. With a silent sigh, Liam pulls his earphones out and sits up, crossing his arms against his chest defensively as Louis flops down on the chair next to him.

"Alright Payno?" Louis asks cheerfully.

Liam glances at him warily, noting the way Louis seems totally relaxed and carefree and feeling a bit envious because he can't remember the last time he really unwound and just let himself chill out. Even now, under the warm Portuguese sun, he's been thinking about tomorrow and worrying about how they'll all fit together as a team. Worrying about whether they can work as a team at all, if he's being honest.

"Don't call me that," he says quietly, ignoring Louis' sharp grin. It suggests a familiarity that they definitely don't share and Liam has absolutely no intention of changing that. Ever.

"Ah, but we're teammates now, Liam," Louis says smugly and Liam's hand clenches into a fist by his side as his mouth tightens. "Playing for the same team. We've got to learn to trust each other if we're gonna win this thing."

Liam gives him a slightly incredulous look. "You think I'm ever going to trust you? Not a chance, _Tommo_." Louis' tiny flinch makes him feel slightly happier because talking to Louis always makes him feel like child. "I'll play football with you, but trust you? No."

"Well this is going to be a fun tournament then isn't it?" Louis says after a pause, his voice a bit sharper with a hard edge to it. "Always were the life and soul of a team, right Liam?"

Liam bites back a retort and drags his gaze away from Louis' smirk, staring determinedly at some focal point in the distance and slowly counting to ten. Then twenty. He keeps going until he can unclench his fists and the urge to shove Louis in the pool or just punch him in the face disappears.

Unfortunately, Louis hasn't. He's still sitting there, watching Liam with narrowed eyes.

Liam puts his earphones back in and closes his eyes, determined to block Louis Tomlinson out of his mind. So what if Louis still thinks he's boring? It's nothing he hasn't heard over and over again since they'd met through the West Ham YTS when Liam was fifteen and Louis had spent two years ignoring Liam or sniping him in whatever ways he could find, both on and off the pitch. He'd stuck with it, keeping to himself more and more until all he did every day was train, go to the gym, go for runs and stay in his room. He's self-aware enough to recognise that Louis had, however inadvertently, pushed him to be a better player, making him desperate to impress Louis, futile as that effort was. His development had led to him getting noticed by scouts and finally moving away from Louis for the greener pastures of White Hart Lane.

Since then they'd managed to only see each other twice a year when their teams met. Liam had been called up for England four times in the past year, and Louis twice but because they'd been playing friendlies in preparation for the World Cup, they'd not actually been on the pitch, playing together. Not since Liam was seventeen.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle kick to his shin. Opening his eyes, he's about to tell Louis where to go, in no uncertain terms, when he sees Louis nodding his head over towards the door. Liam's gaze travels until he sees Niall Horan, dressed in a snapback and shades, looking pale and grouchy. Surprised, Liam glances at Louis, who merely shrugs.

"Hey Niall, over here," Liam calls out, his smile warm and welcoming. He sees Niall recognise them with a weak smile before he heads over, his head ducked down. Liam's smile drops into a confused frown because the lad he remembers playing against and sharing a bit of banter with during games was always smiling, even when his team was losing.

"Hey lads," Niall says, flopping down into a chair opposite. Liam risks a glance at Louis, who looks as bemused as he does.

"Uh, you want a beer mate?" Louis asks, waving over a waiter as Niall's face brightens slightly.

"Hey man, do you have any Guinness?" Niall asks, his face falling at the waiter's shaking head. "Magners? Baileys?"

The Baileys gets a nod, and Niall sits back, smile wide as Liam and Louis make their own orders before turning back to Niall.

"Missing home already then," Louis says under his breath, earning him a glare from Liam and a grin from Niall.

"Can't beat the good old Irish for a drink, Tommo," Niall says easily, looking much more relaxed than he did a few moments ago.

"Well, don't forget that you're English for the next two months, mate," Louis says, and this time Liam leans over to shove him, harder than perhaps he deserves, but honestly. Niall's gone back to looking grumpy as hell and now Louis is glaring at him, rubbing his arm and this isn't exactly the way Liam wanted to start their team-bonding.

"It must be hard, playing for another team, mate," Liam says to Niall, reaching over to pat his hand consolingly. "But the lads are great, and you'll fit right in, yeah? But like, just keep it a bit quieter, yeah? The other lads, they're as proud of being English as you are of being Irish, so maybe try and keep it a bit more lowkey?"

"Yeah, that's what Bressie said," Niall mutters before he sighs and forces a smile. "So lads, what's the news? Where're the other lads?"

"On their way," Liam says mildly.

"Liam and I have just been catching up on the good old days," Louis interjects, not at all helpfully.

"Oh, you're mates then?" Niall asks, leaning forward as their drinks arrive and he flashes a bright smile at the waiter. "Go way back?"

"Something like that," Liam mumbles before he takes a sip of his drink. Louis' laughing at him across the table and Liam hates the way he feels fourteen again, shy and anxious and uncomfortable. Unworthy.

"Liam and I were at West Ham together when we were teenagers," Louis says, and Liam tries not to freeze when Louis' arm slings around his shoulder and he feels himself being pulled into Louis' side. Louis' warm and firm and Liam has no interest in knowing that Louis smells amazing, god. Or that he fits perfectly under Louis' arm.

Because he's not above being a bit of a dick right back, Liam lets his hand drop to Louis' thigh and he squeezes harder than is strictly friendly. And wow, he really, really didn't need to know how nice Louis' thighs are. How muscular and smooth they feel under Liam's hand.

"Ah," Niall says slowly, glancing between them and making Liam wonder what he's seeing, exactly. "You're close, then."

"Practically best mates, right Liam?" Louis says softly. Liam looks up in surprise to see Louis staring back at him, face blank but his eyes soft and Liam can't breathe for a second. He'd forgotten just how blue Louis' eyes are. How beautiful he is, this close.

"Stop fucking around," he manages to say, giving Louis a shove to let him go so he can sit back in his chair and take a desperate gulp from his drink because he absolutely cannot start thinking that Louis is pretty.

"Hey, Malik's here," Niall says cheerfully, much to Liam's immense gratitude. He looks up just as Niall calls out, "hey pretty boy! Over here!"

Liam registers the quick scowl that Zayn can't quite hide before he strolls over, looking ridiculously gorgeous even in the warm sun, not a hair out of place even if he does have that just-out-of-bed look about him.

"It's Zayn," he says softly to Niall who grins back before he slides into the empty seat between Niall and Liam.

"Hi," Liam says with a kind smile. "Ignore Niall, he's bitter his home country is too shit to play in the World Cup."

"Hey!" Niall's outraged, but Liam just winks at him and Niall's annoyance quickly subsides as he downs the rest of his drink. "Unfair to hit a man when he's down."

"Being on the England team isn't exactly down, mate," Louis says amusedly. Liam smiles a bit awkwardly at him in gratitude and Louis doesn't smile back, but he doesn't glare either. Liam figures it's progress of a kind.

"Yeah, so how come you're playing for England then?" Zayn asks, his voice still quiet and unassuming.

"Me mam is half-English and technically I was born here," Niall says gruffly, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

"It's a sore subject," Liam murmurs to Zayn, who nods slowly as his lips curve and Liam bites back an actual groan because Zayn's definitely the most stunningly striking person he's ever seen.

"Surprised you could fit the World Cup in around your busy schedule of modelling underwear and shit," Louis says, roughly enough that Liam turns to look at him. He's glaring at Liam and looking moody as hell. One step forward, two steps back, Liam thinks tiredly.

Zayn stays silent but Liam finds himself glancing between the two until Louis looks away, still clearly bothered by something.

Liam feels horribly awkward and he's mostly looking at Niall who seems to be as confused as he is by the whole situation.

"Heyyy!"

Liam looks up in relief to see Harry Styles grinning at them all, looking horribly cherubic with his long, loose curls framing his cute face, dimples flashing at all of them.

"Hi Harry," Niall greets him, before he turns and steals a chair from the next empty table for Harry, who smiles gratefully at him before he half-falls into the chair, his long legs folding underneath him.

"Hi everyone," Harry says sunnily and Liam's suddenly incredibly grateful that the gaffer choose Harry, young and inexperienced as he is, for the squad. "Have I missed anything?"

Liam glances around the table to see varying expressions of awkwardness. He hides a smile. "Not really mate. Do you know everyone?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry says eagerly, leaning forward and patting Niall on the arm with one hand, his other settling on Louis' thigh. Liam's gaze zeroes in on it in bemusement, and Louis just raises his eyebrow at Liam like a challenge that Liam can't be bothered with right now. "Not as well as I'd like, obviously, but we've got two months to become best mates, right?"

"Might be a bit optimistic there mate," Louis says, waving over the waiter again and ordering five pints and ignoring Niall's protests and subsequent sulk.

"Never met a person I couldn't win over," Harry says in total seriousness before he leans over and smacks a kiss against Louis' cheek. "I'm very lovable."

"You're very slobbery," Louis corrects but there's humour in his voice and he still hasn't moved Harry's hand from his leg.

"Friendly little bugger then aren't you?" Niall says, giving Harry a considering look. "You Irish?"

"Nope," Harry says, moving out of the way of the waiter as he leaves their drinks on the table. "Well, maybe a few generations back on my mum's side."

"Yeah," Niall says seriously. "Definitely some Irish in you. I can tell."

Liam swears he hears Louis mutter something about leprechauns but he very carefully chooses to ignore it.

Three rounds later and Liam's watching Harry and Niall giggling at Louis, staring at him in fascination, all wide-eyed and awe-struck.

Liam gave up trying to follow their conversation about an hour ago, turning to Zayn instead and trying to coax him out of his shell. It took a lot of questions and just as many one-word responses before Liam, in a fit of frustration because normally he was _good_ at small talk and drawing people out, blurted out that he really, really liked comics.

After a silence that seemed to go on forever in Liam's mind, Zayn's real smile had appeared, blinding Liam for a second before Zayn confessed that he was into them too. Ice broken, Liam had quickly realised that Zayn Malik, superstar footballer and part-time model, was actually as big a dork as he was.

Zayn's currently pressing against his side and it's nice, Liam thinks with a smile. Harry's leaning into Niall's shoulder and Niall seems to be tapping out some kind of beat against Harry's arm while Louis' curled up in his chair, feet tucked under him as he gestures wildly, Harry's leg thrown over Louis' lap.

He's not sure if it's the alcohol, the heat or the lads themselves that seem to be encouraging a tactile relationship to drift between them but he guesses it's probably not a bad thing for team bonding and morale. With that in mind, he slips his arm around Zayn's shoulders, tugging him closer and giving him an encouraging smile as Zayn settles into his side.

It's nice, he thinks. And he can probably put up with Louis for two months for the sake of football, pride and the World Cup. He did it for two years when he was younger, more sensitive and easily hurt. He can certainly do it for a few weeks now.

Probably.

*

Harry's the first down for breakfast, filling up on fruit and cereal as he sits on his own and daydreams about nothing in particular. When Liam slides in opposite him with toast and cereal and what looks like a disgusting green-coloured protein shake, Harry gives him his brightest smile.

"Hey Liam." Harry greets him with a wave of his half-eaten banana. "Sleep well?"

"Not really, too excited," Liam says wryly. "I've always had trouble sleeping before I start something new, too keyed up with nerves and excitement. You?"

"Out like a light," Harry grins. "Slept like a baby."

"You _are_ a baby," Louis mutters as he falls into the chair next to Harry and eyes his cereal covetously. Harry just laughs and pushes it across to him. Louis smacks a loud kiss against his curls before he picks up his spoon and dives in.

Niall and Zayn appear together, Niall looking wide awake and far too chatty for a tired-looking Zayn who might actually be sleepwalking, Harry thinks with a smile. Zayn half-falls into Liam while Niall picks up five different breakfasts that appear to all be for him. Niall pushes a plate of toast towards Zayn who nibbles at one carefully. Niall all but inhales a bowl of porridge before he makes himself a bacon sarnie.

"Shut up I'm a growing lad," Niall says without looking up.

Harry grins as he listens to Louis arguing that Niall is in fact not growing anymore and if he's slow on the pitch, Louis' going to smack him with the ball during training.

"Like your aim is that good," Niall answers, making Louis splutter and Harry laugh. God he loves being here. Niall and Louis are already his favourite people in the entire world, except for maybe Gemma and his mum but he doesn't think they count, since they're family. Liam and Zayn seem nice too, maybe a bit quieter and more shy, but he's confident he'll draw them out in time. They seem happy enough whispering among themselves in the meantime though, and Harry's fine with letting them get to know each other first. He's patient. He can wait.

*

Training is awful. Liam tries to tell them all that training is always awful on the first day for many reasons, like the lack of cohesion between the team and the fact that they've all had a two week holiday from training (except Liam, of course, who trained every day because Niall thinks he might be an actual machine rather than a real life person).

They all slope off the field, tired and miserable and mostly covered in mud and grass. They've been yelled at all day by the manager and it's had varying results. Liam kept his head up, his gaze determined and he'd just kept trying. Niall's maybe a little in love with him. Harry had tried to make himself as small as possible, which had made Niall laugh because Harry's one of the tallest on the team. Seeing Harry hunch his shoulders and all but try and hide behind Louis, who stood almost half a head shorter, was one of the highlights of his day. Zayn had scowled and tensed up, but he'd tried harder too. Something to prove, that one, Niall reckons. And Louis had simply carried on as he was, like the yelling had just rolled off his back somehow. Niall's a bit envious.

For himself, he'd gotten through it with thoughts of home and trying to figure out if his mum could send over a care package or something. From home. Full of home-things. Irish things.

He's halfway through stripping off when Harry races past him, totally naked and laughing as he whips Louis with his towel on the way to the showers. He hears Louis' vague threat of revenge as he heads for the showers himself, stepping under the hot spray with a happy sigh, feeling the horrible day wash from him. He can hear Liam singing a few stalls away, his voice instantly recognisable and surprisingly pleasant. Niall hums along as he rinses out his hair. When he's finished, he just stays under the spray for a few more seconds, his hand flat on his belly as he's tempted to move it lower and get a nice, firm grip on his dick. He's pretty sure he could finish himself off in less than a minute but he's never jerked off in a locker room before and he's not sure now is a good time to start.

Then again, he's never played in a team before when he's fancied half of the players either. It's a bit of a surprise, to be honest. But he moves his hand away from temptation, turning off the shower and reaching for his towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before he steps out.

Finding a stark naked Zayn Malik in front of him is not exactly what he needs right now, Niall realises, as gorgeous as the sight is. He struggles to keep his gaze at eye-level, giving Zayn a sharp nod as they pass and before he closes his eyes in pain for a second when he's free and clear, before he steps up to his cubby and dresses slowly, keeping his eyes down because he really doesn't need to see Louis or Liam naked right now to complete the set, he's wound tight enough as it is.

He refuses to let it be awkward, though. There's nothing he can do about it and it's a natural enough reaction. It's not like he hasn't wanked off to pictures of Zayn before anyway, posing in GQ in just his pants. And he's honest enough with himself to know that he'll probably be wanking over Zayn tonight as well. Totally normal, he tells himself.

If he spends the evening talking to Liam and Zayn while Harry and Louis spend their time either flirting or abusing each other (Niall can't really tell) and if he maybe slings his arm around Zayn a bit too casually, Zayn doesn't say anything or push him away. And learning that Zayn's actually really smart and pretty funny and completely dorky doesn't help much either, not when he strips and jumps in the shower before bed and finally gets a hand on himself.

It's a bit of a surprise even to him though that it's the image of Zayn and Harry naked together that has him coming hard into his hand, head thrown back as the hot spray hammers against his skin.

He might just be a little bit fucked.

*

As it turns out, Liam's right. Training does get better and they start to figure out how to work together. There's still a lot of teething problems that the manager yells about constantly, but there's a sense that they're slowly becoming a team.

Liam's fully aware that the only real problem on the team, the only problem that could really derail them, is him and Louis. It's not like they aren't professionals or anything, they both give 100% on the pitch. They just don't like each other and sometimes it's impossible to avoid snapping at Louis under his breath, not when he dives in for a dodgy tackle that manages not to hurt anyone but was still too wild for Liam's liking.

Getting a glimpse of Louis' thighs, lean and tanned wasn't exactly helping because Christ he'd forgotten how beautiful they were. He'd forgotten how often he'd wake up in the middle of the night when he was a teenager, too warm and rock hard, dreaming about Louis' thighs bracketing his. About how beautiful they might look together.

He's just as confused about Louis Tomlinson now as he was at 16.

Liam's tried using the other lads as buffers because it seems like they've somehow formed this group of five within the team, but that just seems to make things worse. He's caught Louis glaring at him more than once when he's been laughing with Niall or Zayn. Harry had fallen into his lap last night when they poured into Niall's room to whisper something about trains (he's still not sure what but he'd quite liked the feel of Harry warm and heavy in his lap so he'd just smiled and nodded and maybe tightened his grip around Harry's arse to keep him in place) and Louis had all but stormed off.

He'd hugged a cuddly Harry closer, buried his head into Harry's shoulder and tried not to think about Louis maybe having a crush on Harry, because it made his chest hurt too much and he doesn't much want to think about _why_.

Liam's currently trying to work out why Louis is glaring at him now. They're in Harry's room tonight and he's trying to be innocuous, not sitting anywhere near Harry but huddled with Zayn, talking about the best strategy for defending corners. Zayn's totally wrong but Liam can't bring himself to argue with him, a bit mesmerised by how animated Zayn gets when he's enthusiastic about something. He's especially not bothered by trying to argue when Zayn's arm is around him, resting on the back of the sofa but his fingers idly playing with Liam's neck.

Training must be tiring him more than he thought though because it's barely half nine when he starts yawning, giving Zayn an apologetic smile. When he yawns for the second time and Zayn laughs at him, he grins shyly and says goodnight to everyone as he slips out of the room and heads towards his own, three doors down.

He's taken one step inside before he feels someone behind him. He's given a rough shove, stumbling against the wall before he turns to see Louis standing in front of him, looking angry and fierce.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Louis asks sharply. Liam frowns at him because he honestly has no idea what Louis' problem is, but Louis' shaking with what Liam supposes is anger and his face is paler than normal, so it must be something serious.

"Not tonight," Liam says lightly and truthfully. Louis' eyes narrow and he takes a step closer. Liam can't exactly go anywhere though with the wall cool and solid against his back.

"Stop flirting with Harry," Louis orders, and somehow it still hurts to hear it, Liam realises. It hurts to _know_.

"I'm not," Liam says in a low voice, because he's honestly _not_. Even though he kind of wants to run his fingers through Harry's hair and maybe kiss his neck. In his defence, Harry's got a very nice neck.

"And Zayn," Louis continues like Liam hasn't spoken. "You're always flirting with Zayn."

"I'm not!" Liam says, his irritation growing as Louis continues to glare at him.

"You," Louis punctuates his words with a shove to Liam's chest, "are."

"What do you want me to do?" Liam asks in frustration. "Not talk to them?"

"No!" Louis bites out before he presses Liam back against the wall, their bodies locked together as Louis hovers inches away from him. "I just want ..."

Liam watches in shock as Louis rises up on his toes and moves quickly, pressing his lips against Liam's, hard and forcefully. It happens so quickly that Liam can't breathe or move, can barely register what's just happened. He watches, frozen, as Louis' eyes widen and his lips move wordlessly.

Before he can think about it, before he can stop himself, he's reaching out to grab Louis' arms and tugging him in. Louis' lips meet his and this time they're properly kissing, lips sliding against each other as Louis pushes up and Liam finds himself pinned against the wall. His hands skim upwards to cup Louis' face, holding him close while their tongues slide together and Liam feels a bit unsteady. Louis' hands are gripping his waist hard, fingertips biting into his flesh and he whimpers softly. Louis surges forward, Liam's head smacking back against the wall but he's still kissing Louis, desperate for this not to end.

Louis' fucking his tongue into Liam's mouth and they're both breathless, both holding on tight and Liam can't help the jerk of his hips any more than he figures Louis can help the low moan he makes into Liam's mouth.

It's not until he realises that they're slowly grinding against each other that Liam pulls back, pushing Louis away until he feels like he can breathe again. He can't look up, his gaze fixed on the cream carpet until he feels Louis moving away. He hears the door open and close quietly, leaving him by himself, his ragged breathing cutting through the silence.

Liam fights to get his jeans undone, sliding his hands into his boxers and getting a firm hand around his painfully hard dick, sliding his hand up and down roughly, not caring about finesse or teasing or anything other than his frantic need to come. He uses his free hand to keep him upright, resting against the wall as he jerks himself off, closing his eyes until Louis' face swims into his mind, blue eyes goading him on as he squeezes himself harder, gasping as he chases his orgasm. He shudders as he comes into his fist, warm and sticky while he trembles, head resting against his hand as he leans into the wall.

And realises that he's totally and utterly fucked.

*

After a night of tossing and turning and getting absolutely no sleep at all, Liam's tired and anxious and he can't bring himself to look at Louis. He latches onto Niall over breakfast and doesn't move from his side until training begins. It's easier, when there's a football involved. He concentrates on what the manager is yelling, running drills by rote and forces his legs to keep moving, even when he's drenched in sweat and Harry's staring at him in concern. He waves him away with a grin that's probably more of a grimace, but he keeps going.

Ignoring Louis' existence isn't anything he hasn't done before. It's kind of a specialty of his.

He's so good at it that it's a week before Zayn even brings it up.

"You ever going to talk about what's going on between you and Louis then?" he asks when they're lounging around Liam's hotel room after training, Liam's head in Zayn's lap as they watch the news, which is about the only English channel the hotel has.

"What do you mean?" Liam asks slowly. He knows he's not fooling either of them.

Zayn's lifted eyebrow has Liam flushing. "You're avoiding each other. Hence why we're in here and the others are in Niall's room."

Liam leans into the hand Zayn's buried in his hair, stroking gently with a soothing rhythm that makes Liam want to purr in delight. "We uh, last week. We kissed."

Zayn's hand stills and Liam wants to protest, but one glance at Zayn's frozen expression has him closing his mouth with a confused frown. "Zayn?"

"Like, proper snogging?" Zayn asks quietly, his gaze steady as he looks down at Liam.

Liam can feel how hot his face is getting and fights the urge to lift his hands to hide from Zayn's too-perceptive eyes.

"Yeah," he whispers, his legs coiling in towards his stomach as he curls up into himself. Zayn's fingernails scratch against his scalp gently and Liam closes his eyes, his hand moving sliding from Zayn's thigh to his hip and back down again. It's always soothing, being with Zayn. He can be quiet and still and just relax.

He hears Zayn clear his throat and he can feel Zayn shifting underneath him. He stills his hand and lets his thumb rub gentle strokes into Zayn's thigh, running over the seam of his black jeans. Zayn wears a lot of black jeans. "Is that all you did?" he asks, his hand moving over Liam's and stopping his idle stroking. Zayn's hand is warm, perhaps too warm, but Liam turns his hand over anyway and threads their fingers together, smiling at the contrast between Zayn's slender, beautiful hands and his own, rougher, larger hands.

"Yeah," Liam murmurs. "I don't know why he kissed me. We're not even mates. Never have been."

Zayn's quiet for a moment and Liam lets the silence settle around them like a comfortable blanket. He's not sure how he's become so in sync with Zayn in just two weeks, but he's incredibly grateful for it, all the same. "Do you like him then?"

Surprised at Zayn's gruff tone, Liam lifts himself up and stretches out his body, taking his time to sort out his thoughts and feelings about Louis. He sits back against the headboard and slides his arm around Zayn's tense shoulders, pulling him in until he's comfortable, Zayn's hand curling into his shirt. "It's complicated," he settles on, because it's the truth. He doesn't know why Louis kissed him. He doesn't know why he kissed him back. He doesn't know why Louis left without a word and he doesn't know why they've been ignoring each other ever since, considering it was probably the best kiss he's ever had in his life.

"You'll figure it out," Zayn says quietly and Liam hums, pretty sure he'll never figure Louis out, but he likes Zayn's faith in him. It makes him feel warm and soft inside. He drops a kiss on Zayn's head and breathes in because Zayn always smells nice. He feels Zayn sigh against his neck, his breath cool against his skin.

It makes him shiver and his hand tightens around Zayn's shoulder.

*

Harry's bursting with energy by the time they suit up for their first game, having flown into Brazil a week earlier. He knows he's probably annoying everyone but he's just excited. He's playing in the World Cup and it's everything he ever wanted it to be. Liam shoved him down onto the bench in the locker room five minutes ago with an easy smile and a firm order to stay still because he was making everyone jittery, but his legs are shaking and his gaze keeps darting around the room, from where Louis' standing talking to Zayn. They're shirtless which Harry appreciates a lot because they have very nice bodies, with Zayn lean and familiar from all the modelling shots he's taken, tattoos stark and gorgeous against his skin, while Louis' more toned and compact.

Lost in a daydream about how Louis and Zayn's tattoos might taste against their skin, he jumps when Liam's hand rests on his shoulder and he falls down next to him, a grim smile on his lovely face, which makes Harry frown and reach out to push it up into a more natural smile. Unable to resist, which Harry knows is part of his charm and he's not afraid to use it to his gain, Liam's smile brightens until Harry's happier and he pokes Liam in the side. Just because.

"Nervous?" Liam asks quietly.

Harry breathes out slowly before he beams at Liam. God, he's just so _nice_. Harry's not sure what to do with someone like Liam, who's solemn and serious and yet his sense of humour is dry and he's pretty smart with a lot of things, although Harry did hear him ask Zayn where Australia was the other day. But he's a born leader and he's always there if Harry needs to ask him something or for reassurance. He's taken to patting Harry's shoulder during training and Harry kind of likes it, the way his hand feels warm and firm and heavy. "Maybe a little," he admits, his arms curling around Liam's shoulders as he hugs him awkwardly. Liam leans into him though and it feels nice, so he's not going to move if Liam isn't.

"You're going to be great, Stylesy," Liam says, and it should sound teasing, Harry thinks, but it mostly comes out solemn and sincere and Harry leans in to smack a kiss against Liam's cheek, his lips brushing over stubble that tickles his skin. That feels nice too.

"Because you're going to lead us to greatness, Liam," Harry murmurs, and that definitely sounds sincere because he absolutely means it with every fibre in his being.

When Liam had walked into Louis' room two days ago, looking dazed and a bit pale, they'd all jumped up, Niall reaching Liam first as he asked what was wrong. Liam had stumbled over his words until Niall figured out he'd been made captain, and then anarchy had descended as back clapping, cheering and sloppy kisses had been pressed into whatever spare inch of Liam's skin they could find.

They'd learned that night that Liam responds well to touch. He'd been giggling and wrestling with Niall and Harry within minutes, managing to pin both of them at the same time to their mutual embarrassment, and Harry had spent most of the rest of the night remembering Liam's flushed and happy face, looming over him and still somehow looking adorably concerned.

"Just remember to pass the ball to Louis sometimes, yeah?" Harry said quietly, his lips so close to Liam's ear that he could feel Liam shiver. Holding back a smile, Harry brushes his hands through Liam's perfectly gelled hair, wincing when his fingers get a little stuck but he pulls them free and pats Liam's hair back into place. "We're going to win this. S'only Italy."

"One game at a time, Harry," Liam murmurs, his hand patting Harry's knee gently before he stands up and rallies everyone to the tunnel.

Harry tries not to stare at his arse as he leads the way.

*

Niall realises about twenty minutes into the first half that Harry is kind of beautiful, on the pitch. He's spent almost a month with Harry and the boys now, and Harry is of course charming and it's so every easy to like Harry. But he's all long arms and legs and an uncoordinated tangle in general. He's lost count of the amount of times Harry's fallen over his own feet, tumbled off something or lost his own thread of conversation, trailing off in confusion. Even during training, Harry spends more time face down on the pitch than on his feet.

It's problematic for him that Harry spends quite so much time sprawled out on the ground, legs spread and arms wide because his imagination already wanders to places it really shouldn't about his teammates. But he's only human, Niall reasons, he's been celibate for months now and Harry's just _really_ pretty.

But he'd forgotten, even though he'd played against Harry just three months ago, how fucking good he is. Somehow he switches from inelegant, bumbling and charming Harry into a beautiful player, playing the beautiful game.

Plus his legs look really good in shorts. Almost as good as Louis'.

They found their rhythm together pretty quickly, him and Harry. Faster than the rest of the team, who seem to look awkward and anxious, and possibly struggling with the heat, no matter how many pats Liam delivers to the players when he jogs past them or how many reassuring cheers he yells across the pitch at a well-timed tackle or well-placed pass. But somehow Niall can place a pass directly to Harry's feet as he flies across the pitch towards goal almost every time.

When they trudge in at halftime, Harry gravitates to his side, slinging his arm around Niall's waist, his fingers digging into his side gently as they both swig desperately from chilled water bottles.

"We're a good team," Harry mumbles, sounding like he's about to fall asleep which makes Niall laugh gruffly before he tugs Harry in for a one-armed hug, settling them down together as they listen intently to the manager's tactics for the second half to try and breach the Italian defence.

It's not until they're on the way back out to the pitch that Louis slides in next to him, his hand resting on Niall's shoulder that he realises what the problem is.

"Everyone's new, except for Liam and a few of the other lads," Louis mutters, sounding part-frustrated and part-resigned. "Everyone's scared of messing up on their big debuts. Keep getting the ball to Harry, Nialler. If we can get one without conceding straight away, everyone will settle down."

"No pressure then," Niall says dryly, hearing Louis' bark of laughter as he squares his shoulders and steps out of the tunnel, briefly blinded by the afternoon sun before he takes his place on the pitch.

Just when he's certain they're going to end their first match with a draw, Niall finds himself with the ball at his feet and an almost clear field to run at. He races past two players and glances up, unsurprised to find Harry exactly where he wants him. He takes half a second to aim, the ball landing perfectly as Harry takes one touch to steady himself before the ball ends up screaming past the Italian goalkeeper who Niall thinks is far too smug in general so it really couldn't have happened to a nicer fella and Niall's racing as fast as he can to catch Harry, who looks adorably confused at what's he just done. Niall tackles him to the ground, smothering his lovely, bemused face with kisses as Liam falls on them, his hands steadying Niall as he smacks his own kiss onto Harry's curls.

The rest of them team pull them up and there's more hugs and cheers and Niall thinks he even spies Liam and Louis hugging before they pull away abruptly and race off in different directions.

Yeah. He needs to talk to the lads about working through _that_ whole weird situation.

But they have a lead to protect and Niall's here to win above anything else. He jogs back into position, grinning at Zayn who shoots a sinful grin back before they get their head down for the whistle.

By the end of the match, where they've defended to the last second and kept their lead, Niall's almost dead on his feet and Zayn ends up half-carrying him towards the tunnel. His legs feel like lead and his head drops wearily onto Zayn's shoulder. "Thanks mate," he mumbles gratefully. He spends the brief walk to the locker rooms wondering how Zayn still smells so nice, like grapefruit and fresh cotton, while he's pretty sure he smells like sweat and grass.

He accepts an engulfing hug from Liam and a handshake from the manager before Zayn all but deposits him in the showers and Niall rests his hands on cool tiles as water sluices over his body. He can hear Harry yelling and Louis shouting back and the normalcy grounds him for a second.

They just fucking won their first match. He grins as he tips his head back and he opens his mouth to catch the water before he sprays it back out with a loud, happy laugh.

"We fucking won, lads!" he yells, hearing a chorus of cheers in response before he starts singing Wonderwall at the top of his lungs. He can hear Liam singing along with him from a few stalls away and slowly the whole team joins in, some more in tune than others, but spirits are high and he feels on top of the fucking world.

*

Niall's not feeling so on top of the world in the morning after a heavy night of celebration in the hotel bar followed by an after party in Louis' room. Liam had mostly frowned at them all, trying to convince them that getting trashed during the World Cup was not a good idea but Zayn and Harry had pouted and pleaded with him until he'd loosened up. Which was probably why Niall had woken up in Louis' room, curled up into Liam's side with Harry sprawled out next to them, his long arm reaching over both of them. Zayn and Louis had been almost impossible to wake up in the other bed, Zayn spooning around Louis, his head buried in Louis' neck.

Liam had dispensed them all to their own rooms to shower and get downstairs in time for breakfast to try and cure their hangovers before they hit training. It hadn't worked and Niall had half-arsed the entire session, Harry hanging off him for most of it, until the manager had sent them all to hit the showers after a loud, vicious bollocking about not wasting their potential or something. Niall's brain was too foggy to follow most of it, wincing at every punctuated word.

Except the gaffer had stopped Harry and Niall from heading back with the others, ordering them to run twenty laps before returning all the equipment as punishment for being too hungover to train. They'd accepted it with good grace before setting off at a snail's pace.

Around lap 17, Harry grabbed for Niall's hand and somehow it'd turned into skipping around the pitch, which Niall had found inexplicably hysterical. Then Harry had tripped over his own feet and fallen into Niall and he'd landed on his back heavily, wincing as Harry wiped out on top of him. Which is how he had ended up here, laughing as Harry giggles into his chest, his arms coming up to encircle Harry and maybe tickle him a little, making Harry laugh harder.

"You're such an uncoordinated idiot," Niall huffs out between laughs as Harry wriggles around on top of him. Niall shifts his hands down to Harry's hips in a move of self-preservation.

"Sorry mate," Harry giggles, lifting his head, his curls hanging down to frame his face and make him look like some kind of fallen angel, Niall thinks somewhat dreamily. Harry's giggles suddenly stop and his face shifts to something more serious and searching.

When Harry dips down slowly with clear intentions in his movements, Niall's already made his decision and reaches up to cup Harry's head and bring him closer, their lips meeting halfway between a sigh and a giggle. It's wet and sloppy and open-mouthed, Harry's tongue fucking into his mouth without any finesse at all.

Niall fucking loves it.

He slides his hands down towards Harry's hips and rolls them over so he's on top, not breaking the kiss as Harry makes filthy noises that get Niall hard so fast his head spins as their make out session wanders completely out of control. Harry's hands are slipping under his shirt, his fingers dancing across clammy skin and Niall can't help the groan that escapes his lips, muffled against Harry's mouth.

His shirt gets rucked up as Harry's hands get bolder, the grass tickling his back as he rolls his hips up into Harry's, laughing as Harry whimpers and pulls back, his pupils blown wide and his lips slick, red and fucking obscene, Niall thinks wildly as he ducks down to kiss him again. His thumbs slip over Harry's shorts to stroke the taut skin over Harry's rolling hips as he trails kisses down to Harry's jawline, nibbling teasingly.

"This is such a bad idea," Niall mumbles as he kisses Harry's neck, grinning as Harry tilts to give him better access. He debates sucking a huge, possessive lovebite on Harry's skin, but he figures the press would give him hell, not to mention the manager and probably the other lads too. He makes his way back to Harry's mouth, forcing himself to gentle the kisses until they're just lazily touching lips, hips finally stilling as they calm down together with soft touches and nuzzling.

"Kissing fit lads is never a bad idea," Harry says eventually, when they're just lying on their sides, on a fucking training pitch Niall realises with a smothered chuckle, pouting at him.

Niall can't resist reaching out to tickle Harry until he starts giggling, because Harry should always be laughing, Niall thinks. He fucking lights up when he does.

"Might be when you're playing in the World Cup though," Niall points out reasonably. Harry's face twists into something resembling a grimace, although he's still smiling so Niall's not quite convinced what feeling he's trying to convey and whether Harry's as torn as he is.

He leans in for another kiss though because whatever Harry's doing, Harry's lips are just _there,_ looking stupidly kissable.

"We need to hit the showers," Niall says on a sigh as he pulls back and stands up, reaching out to help a grinning and grass-stained Harry get to his feet. "Not together, you filthy twat."

Harry just nudges his hip against Niall's before they gather all the equipment together and put it away before heading inside. He deliberately keeps his eyes averted from Harry's shameless nakedness and showers in record time, ignoring how fucking hard his dick is because he's got no intention of getting himself off until he's alone in his room. Where he can fantasise about Harry's fucking mouth for as long as he bloody well wants to.

*

Louis' pretty sure Harry and Niall have fooled around. Niall keeps flushing whenever he looks at Harry and Harry can't stop mooning around after Niall, and mostly he'd like them both to fuck off because besotted teammates are the fucking worst.

And Liam still won't look at him.

Louis' sitting on the bench, eyes on the floor as he tries to get his head in the fucking game because they're about to go out and play their second match and he can't be worrying about the fact that he now knows how good a kisser Liam is or that he can't stop thinking about him. Not that it's a new sensation because he's spent far too many years of his life thinking about Liam, one way or another, but now he _knows_. And it's so much worse because now he can't stop thinking about Liam's mouth or hearing his whimper when Louis kissed him, or remembering the way Liam surged forward to kiss him back.

Like right now he can hear Liam talking quietly to Zayn, even though they're nowhere near him and there's a lot of other noise in the locker room. It's like he has a fucking radar for Liam at the moment and it's fucking exhausting. He's been grateful to the lads for mostly keeping him and Liam apart, although he's amused that they seem to think it's going unnoticed.

When they head out through the tunnel, Zayn appears at his side and stays by him through the national anthem and team handshakes. He's with him until the very last second before they have to take their places, his hand trailing across Louis' back before he's gone. Louis takes a deep breath as the whistle blows to clear his head and he sprints away up field.

The first half is awful. They let in two goals and he knows, he fucking _knows_ that the second one is his fault. Well, it's half Liam's fault too but he'll take responsibility for his part in it. It's his fault he hasn't been passing to Liam out of some petty, ridiculous need to rile Liam up and get a reaction from him. So when Liam was looking to pass and saw both him and Niall free, he'd chosen to pass to Niall even though there were more opposing players in the way. They'd intercepted and scored on the counterattack, leaving Louis feeling like shit and Liam looking absolutely distraught.

The only consolation is that Zayn tapped in a mess of a goal two minutes before half time, which gives them a bit of momentum but it's with tired legs and heavy heads that they trudge in for a roasting from the manager.

Louis knows he's lucky to get away with just a pointed look from the manager but he also knows he'll get much, much worse if they don't at least pull it back for a draw.

Louis forces everything out of his head with effort and concentrates on the match. He passes to Liam when he's free and nods at him when they manage to string a few passes together. It's better. He's not sure which of the two of them is running around more, desperately trying to win possession and get the ball to Niall. It's not like it's a competition, because that would suggest that he's more into beating Liam than the other team, but he can't seem to stop chasing after every ball.

He wins the ball fairly with about fifteen minutes left on the clock and runs at a midfielder before he passes to Zayn. Zayn picks his spot and passes to Liam, who races towards goal before he makes a sweet pass to Niall. Louis' right behind him as Niall lifts the ball over Harry to land right on his left foot and Louis holds his breath as Harry takes aim and fucking _scores_.

Louis falls to the ground in relief, covering his face, his heart racing. He doesn't move, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He _knows_ that hand. Fuck, he knows exactly how that hand feels against his face while he's being kissed. Without looking up, he covers it for a second with his own before he stumbles to his feet and heads back to his starting position.

*

Louis' never been so grateful to end a match in a draw. He takes the manager's criticism on board because he deserves it; can see Liam's bowed head out of the corner of his eye. Louis showers in record time, hoping to escape before any of the lads can stop him because he just needs some alone time, but of course he's not so lucky. Niall's faster than he is, hair still flat against his head like he's rushed on purpose to catch Louis, slinging his arm around Louis' shoulder and nicely but firmly telling him that everyone's going back to Zayn's room.

Louis takes the hint and nods, a resigned smile on his face as they take their time getting back to the hotel in silence, the other three trailing behind them at a distance. He figures Niall can't be too pissed at him since his hand is wrapped around Louis' wrist, but then again maybe he's making sure Louis won't make a run for it.

"You played great today Nialler," he says quietly as they step into the elevator and Niall hits the button for Zayn's floor. Niall just grunts in response, which is the only reaction he gets before they stop at Zayn's door and wait for the boys to catch up.

Inside, there's a palpable tension that hangs over them. Harry, bless him, tries to fill it as Louis and Niall fall onto one bed and Zayn and Liam slide onto the other, but Louis feels a responsibility to save them all from Harry's terrible stories and jokes by pulling Harry into his lap and covering his mouth with his hand. It makes Niall laugh so he figures that's something. When Harry tries to struggle free, Louis grins and turns, only to catch Liam falling into Zayn's side, looking cosy as fuck and Louis' grip on Harry's arm tightens unconsciously, until Harry yelps in pain and Louis eases his hold with a wince and a whispered apology in a sad-looking Harry's ear.

He just catches Liam's glare in his direction before he stares in shock as Liam nuzzles into Zayn's shoulder.

Realistically, he knows Liam's probably doing it to piss him off. So really, it's not his fault that it's fucking _working_. He wraps his arms around Harry, who leans back against his chest and he lets his hands dance carefully up and down Harry's torso, grinning when Harry hums happily.

He ignores Niall's frustrated expression because on the other bed, Liam's got his fingers tangled with Zayn's, and Zayn's staring at Liam like he's starved. Pissed and fine, maybe a little hurt too, Louis reaches down to tilt Harry's head around and he kisses him.

He's vaguely aware of Niall's sigh and a muttered curse from the other bed, but mostly he's aware of how fucking enthusiastic Harry is at kissing. Bloody intoxicating, Louis thinks in wonder as he feels Harry twisting in his hold until he's somehow being straddled by long legs and Harry's cupping his face, like he's been waiting for this since forever and is determined to taste all of him. Louis pulls him closer, his hands sliding down to cup Harry's arse and grinning when Harry gasps into his mouth before he lets out a giggle that has Louis rocking up to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth and ...

A cough has him pulling back, blinking up at a grinning Harry before his glance slides over to Niall, who's hiding a grin.

Oh yeah. Shit. They've got an audience.

*

Liam's unaware of just how tightly he's holding Zayn's hand until he hears Zayn swear under his breath. Dragging his attention away from where Louis is currently snogging Harry, like he hadn't been kissing Liam just last week, he looks up at Zayn, an apology on his lips. Zayn's answering smile doesn't quite meet his eyes though and it's all too fleeting.

Carefully, Liam places his hand on Zayn's chest and is surprised to feel how fast his heart is pounding. It takes a few seconds before everything clicks and Christ, he knows he's slow sometimes but he feels like he's been hit with a sledgehammer. "Hey," he murmurs, lifting his other hand to Zayn's cheek, letting his thumb brush over Zayn's smooth skin and finally paying attention to the way Zayn's eyes hover over his mouth before they lift to hold Liam's gaze.

"Don't," Zayn whispers and it sounds like a plea. But his eyes keep dropping to Liam's mouth like he's not even aware he's doing it. Liam's confused, but he gently takes Zayn's hand in his and lifts it to his own chest, seeing the exact moment it registers with Zayn that his own heart is pounding just as hard as Zayn's is.

It's the easiest thing in the world to lean in and kiss Zayn.

It's even easier to zero all his attention on Zayn and the way he kisses so sweetly, tentative at first until Liam gently urges him closer and he winds up flat on his back, Zayn sprawled over him and kissing him like he's trying to learn the secrets of Liam's lips, eager and firm and filling Liam's senses until all he knows is Zayn. One hand burrows into Zayn's hair while the other finds the curve of Zayn's spine and presses down carefully, grinning when Zayn whines quietly into his mouth.

"Jesus Christ." Niall's exasperated curse cuts through the fog Liam's enveloped within. He pulls back reluctantly, amused by Zayn's look of confusion, arousal and annoyance, all at the same time.

"You lot are the worst," Niall says huffily. Liam turns, finally pulling his gaze away from Zayn but not relaxing his grip at all, to look at Niall, who's got his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows furrowed into a frown and a hell of a pout aimed at all four of them, having moved to the chair opposite the beds.

Liam wonders if it's wrong that he's got an inexplicable urge to kiss Niall, especially when Zayn's still lying on him, warm and semi-hard with bruised lips and mussed-up hair, all thanks to Liam.

"You're all snogging and I'm just sitting here like a lemon," Niall complains, and that's when Liam remembers. He glances over to the other bed and catches Harry's apologetic grin that doesn't look all that sorry, since he's snuggled up to Louis, arms around each other and legs entangled.

Louis doesn't look up though and Liam abruptly shifts his focus back towards Niall.

"Sorry mate," he mumbles, his cheeks flushing as Zayn pulls away from him and makes space for Niall to come sit between them. Niall ambles over, still annoyed but looking a little mollified as he snuggles into Zayn's shoulder and gives Liam a kick. He's not sure why he gets the kick, really, but he reaches up to run his fingers through Niall's hair and gets a delightful hum of appreciation in response, so maybe he's forgiven, at least by Niall.

He'll figure out what to do about everything else later. Hopefully.

*

Training is awful. There' s a weird tension in the air that even the rest of the team seems to pick up on. Passes are sloppy, Harry and Zayn trail behind during drills and the manager, rightfully so in Liam's opinion, shouts at them nonstop.

They come to blows. Quite literally.

Louis takes a wild swing at the ball that ends up with Liam getting smacked in the face and dropping to the ground. He grabs his face, swearing as the pain sears through his cheek and he presses gently, trying to see if he's shattered his cheekbone but he thinks it's okay and he'll just have a lovely bruise to show for it. Harry's helping him up, looking worried and Liam manages to spare enough gentleness to pat his hand in thanks before he's striding over to Louis and shoving him hard. Louis of course shoves him back and within seconds they're rolling around on the cold, hard ground while Zayn's trying to separate them.

Petty as it is, Liam's glad he gets a sharp dig into Louis' shoulder before the manager breaks it up and sends them back to the locker room. They shower in silence, tense and angry before the gaffer hauls them into a room and screams at them for about an hour, Liam thinks wearily.

"You two need to sort your issues out, whatever the hell they are," the manager says finally, looking as tired as Liam feels. "You're the captain, Payne. If you can't sort this out, you're both benched. I need both of you, but I need you on the same bloody page. Do whatever it takes. You've got the rest of the day off but I want to see you bright and early in the morning, looking like fucking teammates, okay?"

"Yes sir," Liam says immediately, followed a second later by Louis, who sounds subdued and pretty exhausted by everything too.

When it's just the two of them, Liam feels hot and shameful and like he can't breathe through the stifling air.

"S'go back to mine," he suggests in a mumble, relieved when Louis just nods and follows him out. They grab their bags and head out as the rest of the boys head in from practice.

Liam can't look at any of them.

Since they're not speaking, the strain weighs heavily on Liam's shoulders until he feels like he might stagger underneath it. There's a fraught few minutes in the elevator before the doors open and he can breathe again. Of course he fumbles with his keycard, but for once he doesn't feel Louis' judgemental gaze on him. He gets the door open eventually and steps inside, Louis following at a careful space behind him.

Biting his bottom lip, Liam takes a few breaths because his heart is pounding and his palms are sweating. He feels a bit sick, really, so sitting on the end of his bed seems like a reasonable thing to do.

He's not sure how much time passes, but he feels the bed shift next to him as Louis sits next to him and the silence is unnerving him.

"Sorry for being a dick," Louis says quietly. Liam looks up in surprise to find Louis looking at him, his mouth curved into a hint of a smile.

"Which time?" Liam asks before he can stop himself. He has the grace to look contrite. "Shit. Sorry."

"No, it's a fair question, probably," Louis admits. Liam watches in fascination as Louis knits his fingers together before pulling them apart, then repeats the whole process. On the third round, Liam reaches over and covers Louis' hands with his own, stilling them. Liam feels the deep breath Louis takes before he speaks. "You just never liked me and I really hate it when people don't like me."

A laugh escapes from Liam's lips before he can stop it, a short, sharp bark of surprise more than real humour. His hand is still on Louis' so he feels the tension radiating off him. "Do you even remember West Ham, Lou?" The nickname slips out before he can stop it but he ploughs on through, voice flat. "You made my life fucking miserable. You used to pick on me every single day."

"I was teasing," Louis says with a frown, and Liam stares at him as his heart sinks. "I thought ... shit. Fuck. Liam, I made your life miserable? Are you fucking _serious_?"

He can't speak, words catching in his dry throat so he nods slowly instead, watching Louis' face drop. It fucking _drops_.

"Lou," he says on a sigh, and he tangles his fingers into Louis', gripping tightly. Louis' hand is as clammy as his is and it's a bit uncomfortable but he thinks maybe they both need this. "You called me boring and lame and rubbish and all kinds of things that made me feel sick inside. I spent more time by myself or training alone. I hated coming to team training because you'd be there, saying all the things I thought about myself, things that I tried to hide but not from you. You could see them and I thought everyone else could see them too, that they were just being too polite to say anything."

Louis is horribly, painfully still in a way that he never normally is.

Slightly panicked, Liam carries on quickly, "But you made me a better player because I wanted you to see that I could be something great, maybe. So really, I kind of owe everything to you. Playing for England. So like, thanks."

"You're thanking me for bullying you," Louis says flatly.

"It's probably not bullying if it's true," Liam says in a small voice. Because it had been. He had been boring and rubbish and all the things Louis had said.

"Jesus, Liam," Louis murmurs and Liam's horrified to hear Louis' voice tremble. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry a million times over. I never realised. I never thought ... I didn't think you liked me. I thought if I was funnier and smarter that maybe you would. I never thought ... I never thought you'd _believe_ anything I said. None of it was true. _None_ of it. Christ, if you only knew how much of a fucking lie every single word that came out of my stupid mouth was."

He rips his hand out of Liam's and stands up jerkily. Liam flexes his hand, feeling bereft as that sick feeling threatens to engulf him. He doesn't understand anything Louis' saying. His whole world, his whole viewpoint on everything is so carefully entwined with Louis that everything feels like it's turned upside down.

A knock on the door interrupts whatever Louis had been about to say or do, and Liam stands up to let the boys in, knowing how pointless it would be to try and ignore them.

Harry's arm curls around him tightly as he passes, dragging Liam onto his bed and he hides his face into Harry's shirt because he's a fucking coward and Harry feels solid. Familiar. Grounding him.

"You two sorted it out then?" Niall asks, jumping straight to the point as usual.

He can't answer and he thinks maybe Louis won't answer.

"I've got a theory then," Niall continues easily. Liam's listening with half an ear, but mostly he's concentrating on the way Harry's stroking his back, his hand underneath his shirt and warm, strong hands sweeping over his skin. He arches into Harry slightly, his breathing evening out as Harry brushes his lips over Liam cheek. "Too much sexual tension."

Liam blinks twice before he lifts his head to make sure he heard correctly. When he sees Niall's pleased, smug expression and three pairs of identically confused eyes trained on Niall, he's pretty sure Niall said exactly what he _thought_ he'd said.

*

"Are you suggesting Louis and Liam shag it out of their systems?" Harry asks slowly, his voice pitched low as he pulls Liam back into his arms, almost possessively, Zayn thinks with amusement. He knows exactly how that feels.

"Pretty much," Niall says as if it's the most obvious solution in the world. Zayn leans over and drags him into a headlock, laughing when Niall makes a whining sound and tries to get free without much luck.

"Not happening," Louis says, his voice lifeless and sounding a bit hoarse to Zayn's ears.

He glances between Louis and Liam, noticing how they're both holding themselves tightly, like they're scared to let go of whatever control they're holding onto. Frowning, he lets Niall sit up but tucks him into his side all the same and keeps his hand steady on Niall's shoulder.

"Let me finish," Niall says, and perhaps because it's Niall, because everyone adores him terribly, but they all look at him, flushed and excited. "I'm not just talking about Liam and Louis. I mean all of us."

There's a startled silence in the room.

"Like, I'd quite like to shag Zayn," Niall says conversationally, and Zayn's not sure how he doesn't freeze up or sink into the ground, but he knows his heart is racing and he's suddenly too warm, like Niall's become a furnace against his side. "Can't help it, the man's got lovely eyes."

"True," Harry calls over, lifting his head to wink at him. Zayn flips him off, amused.

"What exactly are you suggesting, Nialler?" Zayn asks quietly, keeping all judgement out of his voice. He's intrigued, sure, because he's had quite a few graphic thoughts about how Niall might look, breathless and wrecked laid out against his sheets. And Niall's all but admitted to having the same thoughts about him. But he's not quite sure he's following where Niall's going with this.

"All five of us," Niall says brightly, like that clarifies _anything_ , Zayn thinks fondly.

"Not happening," Louis repeats, his voice harder this time like he's in actual physical pain. He's standing by the window, not looking at any of them, his back ramrod straight and his hands dug deep into his pockets.

Zayn takes a risk and sends Liam an apologetic look. Not that he sees it, since he's currently burrowed into Harry's chest. "Well, you and Liam already kissed," he says slowly, watching as Louis' shoulders tighten, hunching up. "So there's clearly something there."

After a painfully silent minute, Harry blurts out, "I've wanked thinking about all of you."

Zayn hears Liam's spluttered laughter that turns into a groan somewhere in the middle. Next to him, Niall cheers excitedly and Zayn can't stop the bubble of laughter that spills over his lips.

"You're suggesting we all date each other?" Louis says, turning around and zeroing in on Niall with a raised eyebrow. Zayn can see Louis measuring everything up, can read Louis easier than perhaps even Louis realises. It's both a blessing and a curse, perhaps.

He looks too small, Zayn thinks, framed by the expansive window.

"Why not?" Niall asks in his most reasonable voice. Zayn wants to laugh again but Louis' staring at them, a frown knitting his eyebrows together.

"It'll end horribly, that's why not," Liam says. He's finally pulled away from Harry, settled into his side now with his head pillowed on Harry's shoulder. Harry's stroking his hair casually, but Zayn can see the light burning in Harry's eyes. He's pretty sure Niall's got his first yes right there.

"I'm in if you are."

It's said quietly, coming from near the window, and directed towards one person. Zayn reaches out for Niall's hand, squeezing gently as Liam lifts his head and looks over at Louis. There's too much emotion there for Zayn to figure out what's happening but Liam tilts his head and manages a small smile. He sees an answering one steal across Louis' face and suddenly he sits up because fuck, are they actually doing this?

"So we're all dating then?" he asks, finally speaking. "Like, five boyfriends?"

"Probably the only way we'll get through this tournament to be honest," Harry points out. "Without, you know, killing each other. We'll shag each other instead."

"Not the most common tactics," Liam murmurs. "Wonder if any of the other teams are gonna have five players shagging each other."

"Maybe it'll be our secret weapon," Niall says cheerfully, waggling his eyebrows dramatically. Zayn promptly shoves his face away.

"So like, we just share, right?" Liam asks, and Zayn's relieved that he's not the only one finding this hard to figure out.

"Like this, Payno," Niall says briskly, turning towards Zayn and crawling into his lap, Zayn's hands settling on his waist to keep him from tumbling off. Zayn hums, liking this new development a lot, Niall lifting his index finger towards Zayn's torso. Zayn watches in bemusement as Niall presses his finger against Zayn's nipple, and he jerks slightly. Niall grins as he glides past his other nipple and Zayn thinks it's a good thing Niall's cute because he'd probably kill the other lads if they did this.

"Tease," he whispers, low enough for just Niall to hear.

Niall flushes but he presses his finger into the middle of Zayn's chest, apparently done for the moment. Zayn keeps his hands wrapped around Niall's hips though, keeping him firmly in place because if they're really boyfriends now, he gets to do this.

Niall leans in and kisses him, a slow, firm press of his lips on Zayn's. "Just like this, Payno," Niall mumbles. "Except Zayn's mine tonight. M'not sharing him."

Zayn knows he's flushing, he can feel the heat of his skin as Niall bumps their noses together. It's horribly sweet and Zayn's grip tightens around Niall's hips, wondering if Niall bruises easily, his skin so pale and gorgeous and he flushes so easily. Zayn's fingers brush slowly over Niall's jeans and he promises himself that by the end of the night, he's going to know everything he wants to know about Niall's beautiful body.

*

They look beautiful together, Liam realises as he stares at Niall and Zayn. They're gorgeous apart, but together they fit naturally, like missing pieces of each other. He's fighting jealousy, which isn't exactly a good first emotion when they've all just decided to be in some huge, five person relationship and share each other, but Zayn had felt more like _his_ than the others, somehow. He knows he's being ridiculous, but he's nothing if not honest and it's difficult to see Niall in Zayn's lap, knowing that Niall's not sharing tonight. It's difficult now that he knows how Zayn kisses and the noises he makes. Noises Liam's desperate to hear over and over again.

He's startled out of his thoughts when a warm hand slides into his, the bed lowering next to him. He risks a glance over, but Louis' gaze seems to be firmly and stubbornly set out the window. Liam fights back his fear and his anxiety to squeeze Louis' hand carefully, a message he hopes Louis understands.

The air rushes out of his lungs as Harry lands heavily in his lap, Liam's hands reaching out to steady him even as it looks like Harry's going to overbalance, as usual. Except he's actually reaching for Louis, pulling him in for a kiss even as his legs straddle Liam's hips. Liam watches in fascination as Harry's lips part and he can see his tongue slide against Louis', slick and wet. He shifts, groaning as Harry's hips rock down onto Liam's semi-hard dick. They look so perfect together, Liam thinks wistfully as his hands move up and down Harry's thighs slowly, his eyes fixed on the way Louis' panting into Harry's mouth and how Harry's grinning into the kiss like an excited child who's gotten everything they ever wanted on Christmas Day.

Liam wants to touch. He wants to reach out and touch one of them, both of them, but he feels like an intruder. He keeps his hands gentle on Harry's thighs, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he keeps himself as still and silent as he can manage.

When they finally pull back from each other, hands still plastered against each other's faces, Liam finally realises that they've been left alone. Niall and Zayn must have snuck out, and he tries not to think about what they're probably up to in Niall or Zayn's hotel room.

He tries not to think about how if he'd been with Zayn, he might have been wanted.

But this is fine, he tells himself as Harry strokes Louis' hair back from his face, looking more tender than Liam's ever seen him look before. And Louis looks soft and rumpled and beautiful. Liam wonders if perhaps he should offer to leave so they can be alone. But he's so horribly selfish. He wants to enjoy as much of this as he can, so he'll stay until they ask him to leave.

He really doesn't want to go.

Harry leans in to press his lips against Louis' again, a sweet, pliable kiss that's over far too soon. Liam can sense the exact moment they realise he's still there. Liam manages not to wince when Harry turns to him, a smile playing on his beautiful, shiny red lips, marked so blatantly with Louis' kisses.

"Heyyy," Harry murmurs, bringing a hand down from Louis' face to grasp Liam's.

"Hey," Liam answers softly. He smiles up at him, perhaps a little sadly but he nods, almost to himself as his gaze drops and misses the frown Harry makes. "It's fine. I'll just like, go?"

His heart is pounding as he waits for Harry to scoot off him, but he stays put. Liam doesn't miss the look he shares with Louis.

"Liam, it's your room," Louis says slowly, like that's important or something.

"Oh, yeah," Liam says, feeling stupid. Of course it's his room, with his stuff everywhere. Shit. "I don't mind going, if you want to stay. Or you can go and I'll stay. Whatever you want to do. It's ... fine."

It's not fine. It's shit. But maybe he can convince Zayn to spend the night with him tomorrow. He's pretty sure Zayn will at least let him get off or something. He ducks his head, feeling utterly wretched.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Harry says slowly and Liam physically feels the misery roll through him. "Having four boyfriends. Four people that look after you and care about you and make sure you know how wonderful and special you are."

Liam nods glumly. It _does_ sounds nice.

"Liam, you twat," Louis says roughly, drawing Liam's gaze up in surprise. He's about to physically throw Harry off him so he can storm out since that's obviously what they want, when Louis ducks in and kisses him, fierce and sharp. Liam's head snaps back but Louis keeps pushing, until he's pressed back against the headboard and he's fucking lost in Louis.

"My turn," he hears Harry grumble, and Louis' being pulled off him and then there's Harry. Smiling down at him so sweetly. Cupping his face with big, firm hands and moving so slowly that Liam's mesmerised. His eyes flutter shut as Harry presses in close, lips gentle on his like they're asking a question.

He can feel hands on his chest, smaller hands that seem to be learning the lines of his body. Liam reaches blindly, still kissing Harry as he grasps Louis' hand and holds on tight.

"As if we'd ever want you to leave," Harry mumbles against his mouth, shifting until he's sitting back on Liam's legs and tugging him down to lie flat against the sheets, Harry sprawling half over him as Louis curls into his side.

"Get your top off," Louis complains, sitting up to pull his own over his head, revealing golden, beautiful skin that Liam's desperate to taste, now that he can. Harry's already stripped to his boxers before Liam can tear his gaze away from Louis, and he huffs out a laugh as Louis and Harry both reach for his shirt, wrestling it off him and then going to work on his joggers. Liam's giggling because Harry's trying to both strip him and kiss his tummy at the same time and Louis' shoving Harry away and ordering Liam to lift his hips up, and he wonders if anything can feel as good as this very moment.

When he's finally down to his boxers and Harry lifts his head from where he's just sucked what looks (and felt) like an enormous lovebite on his chest, Liam turns to Louis, his smile easy and his gaze probably far too fond. "You too, Lou."

He catches Louis' smile before he's pulling off his own joggers and then it's just the three of them, almost naked, and all hard, from what Liam can see. Harry's curled into his side, head resting on Liam's shoulder and seemingly quite happy where he is. Liam nudges against him, seeking his lips as Harry laughs softly. He can feel Louis' hand on his belly, fingers splayed against his too-hot skin. His own hand traces the waistband of Harry's boxers teasingly, enjoying the way Harry groans and nips at his bottom lip, his hips lifting as Liam's fingers dance across his taut belly, lingering over Harry's laurel tattoos.

His hand slips under the cotton material and Harry mutters a "finally," sounding so frustrated that Liam laughs as he trails kisses down Harry's jaw and mouths at his neck. His hand closes around Harry's dick, humming as he feels how hard Harry is, warm and heavy in his hand.

"Fuck!" the word falls out of his mouth as he feels Louis' hand slip into his boxers and grip him tightly, pressing up against him and rubbing his own erection against Liam's hip. It makes Harry giggle as Liam feels himself being tugged onto his side, facing Harry as Louis plasters himself against Liam's back, hand still in his boxers and stroking him slowly. Liam remembers to start moving his own hand, groaning as Louis' thumb brushes over his slit before sliding down his shaft, squeezing at the base before he strokes upwards, his thumb pressing down firmly on the underside of his cock.

He writhes back against Louis, feeling his erection pressing into his arse and it's almost too much.

Harry nibbles at his neck, reminding him to keep stroking Harry, mostly unable to concentrate as Louis drives him crazy, his lips brushing against Liam's back and making him shudder.

He strokes Harry slowly, certain that Harry would enjoy the tease. He keeps his gaze locked on Harry's face, watching as his face relaxes and his lips curve, beautiful and captivating. He speeds his fist up, gratified when Harry whimpers, his hand reaching over to press against Liam's chest.

"You look so beautiful," Louis murmurs behind them, and Liam nods because Harry does. He really fucking does. "Both of you. Like this."

Liam groans, his hips jerking into Louis' hand. He's trying his hardest to hold on, but it's a lot, Louis' hand on his dick and Harry facing him, as close to the edge as Liam is. "C'mon babe," he mutters, twisting his hand on Harry's cock, feeling Harry tense against him. "We wanna see you come."

Apparently Harry likes a bit of dirty talk because that's all it takes to send him over the edge, coming over Liam's fist as he lets out a low filthy moan that has Liam pushing back against Louis, his head resting back on Louis' shoulder as he presses kisses along Liam's neck.

"Your turn, Liam," Louis whispers in his ear, forcing a hoarse whimper out of him. Louis grinds his hips against him, his hand jerking faster as Liam gasps before he comes. Louis strokes him gently through it, mouthing at his shoulder until Liam relaxes, feeling utterly spent and boneless.

He can barely open his eyes but Louis hasn't gotten off yet and he really, really wants to see Louis lose control. Before he can do anything though, he can feel Louis wriggling next to him and figures he's shimmying out of his boxers.

"What do you want Lou?" he manages to ask, his voice raspy as Harry's hand curls around his chest.

"Wanna come," Louis says, his voice raspy as Liam opens his eyes to see Harry moving, tugging Louis over until he's straddling Liam's hips.

"Hey," Liam says softly, and Louis stares down at him before his lips curve. He's hard and naked and Liam thinks he might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Louis' body is firm and lean and Liam manages to lift himself up long enough to press a kiss against Louis' chest before he falls back against the mattress tiredly. "You wanna come on me, babe?"

"Fuck," Louis curses loudly and Liam smiles to himself. Sometimes he thinks it should probably be weird, how well they all know each other. "Yeah."

Liam opens his eyes long enough to watch Harry stroking Louis with his right hand, still tucked into Liam's side. Louis' glance keeps flicking between them and Liam smiles up at him before he reaches down to cup Louis' balls and squeeze gently. Louis' head falls back as he rocks up into their hands, swearing when Liam moves his hand to cover Harry's and they stroke him together.

"So gorgeous, Lou," Harry mumbles next to him. "You gonna come all over Liam, yeah? Make him all pretty and mess him up?"

Louis nods shakily, glancing down at them as he groans before he pushes their hands away and gets a hold on himself. Liam locks eyes with Louis and smiles, his hands settled on Louis' thighs as he squeezes.

Louis comes with a shout, striping Liam's chest with long white sticky stripes before he falls to Liam's other side, panting as Liam grabs his hand and holds on.

"Beautiful," Harry says, leaning up on his elbow and licking Liam's chest. Liam laughs, pushing him away even as Louis reaches up and smears his come into Liam's skin.

"Niall is a goddamn genius," Louis mutters into Liam's arm. "Nobody tell him."

Liam grins as Harry shifts, padding away to the bathroom before he returns with a cloth to clean Liam up carefully. Liam rewards him with a long, drugging kiss before Louis mumbles that he's too tired to get up and go to his own room and Harry agrees, sprawling himself over Liam and resting his hand on Louis' back.

Liam's absolutely sure this isn't exactly what the gaffer had in mind when he asked them to sort out their problems.

*

Niall's dragging Zayn across the hallway to his room, swearing when he realises he has to let go of him to fish out his keycard. He really, really doesn't want to let go of Zayn for a single fucking second.

He pushes Zayn back against the door to his room, grinning as he presses up against him and kisses him, laughing when they both try and get their hands into the pockets of Niall's joggers while Zayn's licking into his mouth and making desperate noises that get Niall's dick hard. He rolls his hips up into Zayn, laughing when Zayn swears loudly.

Niall finally finds his key and spends far too long trying to get it into the slot, still kissing Zayn who's gotten it into his head to slide his hands down into the back of Niall's joggers and squeeze his arse, which is amazing because Zayn's hands are possibly magical, but it's not helping Niall to unlock his bloody door.

When the door finally opens, they fall backwards, Zayn laughing as Niall slams the door shut behind him and reaches for Zayn, who crowds Niall back against the door, his head dipping to kiss Niall's neck, trailing kisses down to his collarbone.

"How easily do you bruise, babe?" Zayn asks gruffly and Niall groans helplessly.

"Pretty easily," he admits as Zayn's hands slide up under his shirt and he feels fingertips digging into his skin. He reaches down to tug his shirt off, helping Zayn with his and staring at Zayn's beautiful tattoos. He wants to taste them but Zayn's holding him back against the door, his gaze drawn to where his fingers are pressing into Niall's pale skin, a tiny smile lighting up his face as he sees Niall's skin turn red.

"Possessive fucker aren't you," Niall says, amused as Zayn's smile turns positively sinful.

"Not sharing," Zayn reminds him. Niall grins, because hell yeah he's not sharing Zayn.

"This is probably gonna be the quickest shag in history mate," Niall says, because he thinks it's only fair to warn Zayn. He hasn't had sex in months and Zayn's too fucking gorgeous for his own good. He rolls his hips and catches Zayn, their dicks rubbing together through too many layers of material and he hears Zayn swear again.

"Same," Zayn mutters as he crowds closer, circling his hips and making Niall groan weakly as he tries to gain some fucking friction. Niall's hand settles on the back of Zayn's head, pulling him in for a kiss as Zayn finds some kind of rhythm. Niall thrusts his tongue into Zayn's mouth and he's trying to keep his balance, his hands reluctantly leaving Niall to flatten against the door.

"Fuck Zayn," Niall moans and Zayn lifts his head, seeing Niall flushed and looking a bit wrecked.

"You wanna come like this babe?" Zayn asks, rocking his hips down again and grinning when Niall's eyes roll backwards, the wanker.

"Fuck, yeah," Niall pants, a hand clutching at Zayn's hip. Zayn slides his leg between Niall's and lets Niall rut against him, desperate and beautiful. Niall fucking himself against his leg is possibly the hottest thing he's ever seen.

"Gonna fucking come," Niall says hoarsely. Zayn leans in to kiss him, sloppy and fierce as Niall stiffens in his arms. Zayn kisses him through it until Niall collapses back against the door and scrubs at his face, grinning at Zayn when he's stopped trembling. "Jesus, normally I have a little more bloody finesse."

"Who fucking cares about finesse," Zayn says shakily, still achingly hard.

He hears Niall's laugh and fuck, he's finally tugging Zayn's joggers down past his hips and freeing his dick, thick and heavy and already leaking.

"Mate, next time I'm gonna get my mouth on you and show you what I can really do," Niall murmurs into his ear and Zayn whimpers, closing his eyes as Niall thumbs at his slit before he strokes him, firm and fast. He's embarrassingly close already, his head dropping down onto Niall's shoulder as he tries to catch his breath but every stroke sends him closer to the edge.

"Wanna see you come, Zee," Niall whispers and Zayn tips his head back obediently seconds before he comes long and hard, coating Niall's hand before he collapses forward, Niall just about keeping him upright before they sink to the floor, Niall wrapping himself around Zayn as they both struggle to breath, Zayn's breath hot on his neck as he wipes his hand on the carpet, ignoring Zayn's vaguely muttered protest.

"S'not the worst thing I've done in a hotel room, Zayn," Niall mumbles, pleased when Zayn laughs quietly underneath him.

"Can'tmove," Zayn grumbles tiredly. "Wan'bed."

"Nice to know I've reduced you to incoherent sentences," Niall teases as he heaves himself up with a wince. He disappears into the bathroom and cleans himself up before he slips out of his boxers. He manages to get an unhelpful Zayn naked too before he pulls him up and half-drags him to bed. "You fucking weigh a tonne, mate."

"Light as a feather," Zayn mumbles, half-asleep, eyelashes fluttering gently against his cheeks. Niall thinks he should come with a fucking warning of some kind for mere mortals like him. "Shut up and cuddle me."

He huffs out a laugh as he curls into Zayn's body, too warm but not wanting to move. "You're a lazy fucker, Zayn Malik."

Zayn hums his agreement easily enough, his hands seeking out Niall and pulling him closer. He thinks maybe he'll wake Zayn up early enough so they can shower together. He really does want to prove to Zayn that he's better than a quick fumble against the door, no matter how fucking good his orgasm was. He doesn't intend to let Zayn out of his room until he's had him trembling in his arms. He's got a fucking reputation to uphold. But for now, he closes his eyes and lets Zayn's soft snores send him off to sleep.

*

Someone's poking him.

He shifts, trying to move away but they're persistent.

"Fuck off," he mumbles into his pillow, still half-asleep. He's fucking exhausted and he needs at least another 12 hours sleep.

"Morning Louuuu."

"Fuck off Harry," Louis says sleepily. He tries to drag the covers over his head but they won't move. "Need sleep."

"Liam's gone for a run and I'm bored," Harry says and Louis opens a curious eye to see Harry's face on his pillow, smiling dopily at him. "We could shower together."

"You better be offering to touch my dick, Harry, otherwise you're the worst boyfriend ever," Louis grumbles as he sits up and rubs at his tired eyes. Harry's face is awful in the morning, he realises. All smiling and cheerful and adorable when Louis just feels a bit shit and tired. He's tempted to shove Harry off the bed for being so cute in the mornings but he decides against it, just in case Harry decides to be a child about it and changes his mind about blowing him in the shower.

Instead he settles for a quick tug on Harry's curls, making Harry smile wider because he's awful, and they're stumbling into the bathroom, Harry's giggles drowning out Louis' moans.

They're late to breakfast so they don't see the rest of the boys and honestly, Harry is so handsy it's a good thing, really. Eventually, Louis just gives in to Harry's wandering hands and lets Harry sprawl half in his lap while they eat breakfast and just keeps an eye out for paps or the rest of the squad, who might not be so understanding about half of the team fucking each other.

It's when Harry reaches for his banana that Louis draws the line.

"Don't you dare," he mutters, glaring at Harry who's trying to look innocent and failing miserably.

"Not my fault if you've got a filthy mind full of dirty, dirty thoughts," Harry points out, peeling the banana carefully. When he opens his mouth much wider than is quite necessary, Louis coughs and shifts Harry back onto his own seat, shoving his hand down to squeeze his dick and he starts reciting the 1966 World Cup winning squad to distract from the way ... oh fuck, he's actually deep throating it.

"You are such a little shit," Louis growls. He watches in fascination as Harry grins at him, his mouth full of mushy banana and looking completely unabashed. He reaches out to poke Harry's cheek, laughing when Harry's expression falls, glaring at him and swallowing quickly.

"Weren't complaining this morning," Harry mutters as they gather their things and head for the training ground.

"Weren't complaining about what then?" Niall asks, appearing next to them his arm wrapping around Louis' waist. He looks horribly smug, like he's had sex already this morning. Louis lets his own arm lift to drape across Niall's shoulder as Zayn makes Harry jump by sneaking up behind him. Liam jogs up behind them, looking disgustingly fit and slings his arms around both Harry and Zayn. A very merry band they look, Louis reckons, a bit smug.

"Dicks, probably," Zayn guesses, grinning wickedly when Harry flushes. Liam cuddles him closer and Harry makes a fist around his grip on Liam's shirt.

"Zayn has a lovely cock," Niall announces. Louis glances up, expecting Zayn to be flushing but he's still just grinning, flicking Niall a thumbs up. Christ, his boyfriends are losers. Maybe he needs to rethink this whole situation.

"Liam's dick is really nice," Harry says softly. "Really, really nice."

Okay, Liam's definitely flushing.

"Are we really comparing dicks this early in the morning?" Louis asks tetchily. He leans over to elbow Harry, who turns slowly to look at him expectantly. "Hey, why aren't you complimenting my dick? You liked it well enough this morning when you had it in your mouth in the shower."

"Louis' dick is probably the prettiest one I've ever seen," Liam says quietly. Louis' step falters and he drags a ragged breath in, not sure why Liam saying it makes his heart pound faster, but he catches his eye and blows him an obnoxious kiss all the same. "And Harry's is gorgeous, of course."

"Like the rest of me," Harry says smugly, but it just sounds horribly cute.

There's a beat before Niall leans over Louis and scowls. "Zayn!"

"Yeah, Niall's dick is okay," Zayn drawls out slowly, making them all snigger.

"You're all idiots," Niall mutters, folding his arms and sulking. Without thinking, Louis reaches up to steal his beanie, racing off ahead towards the locker room with Niall chasing after him, yelling like an idiot but laughing loud enough to make Louis grin.

He's subjected to a ten minute chat where he and Liam assure the manager that they've sorted out their differences, which ended with Liam and Louis sharing a Very Solemn Handshake (and Louis' certain he's not the only one remembering exactly where they'd each had their hands last night), they head out for training.

It takes about half an hour of running set plays before the whole team seems to figure out that something's changed. Louis' passes feel crisper, like he knows exactly where one of the boys will be before he connects with the ball. Harry's legs seem to pump even faster than normal, his beaming grin seemingly encompassing the whole squad and lifting them to work harder. Niall and Zayn are ridiculously in sync, their passes hitting near the 90 per cent completion mark, Louis estimates (possibly wildly, he's too happy to care though). And Liam's in the middle of them all, crinkly-eyed and grinning excitedly like he's already won the World Cup itself.

Louis thinks they're all awful and he can't wait to shag all of them.

It doesn't help when Harry decides that a few hours is too long to go without touching one of them and starts throwing around sloppy kisses at all of them. It's not like it's unusual for footballers to be affectionate, and it's definitely not unusual for Harry to be free and easy with his kisses, so the rest of the team don't blink an eye. But Louis sees the way Harry's hand lingers on Niall's arse when he pats him in passing. And he sees the way Harry kisses the corner of Zayn's mouth, letting his tongue flick out so quickly that if he'd blinked, he'd have missed it, the sneaker fucker.

By the time Harry's kissed him full on the lips after they've run corner drills and Harry's scored more than he's missed from Louis' crosses, and managed to grope his arse, Louis' a bit worked up and having Harry plastered against him isn't helping his concentration.

He can admire Zayn's thighs later, preferably when he's got him laid out in bed, naked and needy. He doesn't need to stare at them right now while he's running across the pitch, chasing Niall. Who also has very nice thighs. And a lovely arse, honestly.

When the manager finally, thankfully calls an end to training and tells them to have a quiet night before early training tomorrow, he sees Liam heading straight for him. He doesn't even have to remember to smile because he's already got a big stupid grin on his face.

"You've been amazing today," Liam says shyly, and god Louis wants to jump him right now. He's starting to realise that it's not new, this craving he has to reach out and touch Liam. It's just that now he's allowed to feel this way without worrying that Liam hates him. Without being afraid that he'll be pushed away again. It's fucking liberating.

"I can help you work on your turns, if you want," Louis offers, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Liam frowns, a wrinkle forming in his brow that Louis has an urge to kiss. "Oh. Um, yeah. I guess I'm pretty shit at them, really."

And wait, what? "No," Louis says quickly, reaching out to grab Liam's arm. He feels Liam's bicep flex under his fingers and he manages to hold back a groan. It's a close call though. He waits very deliberately until everyone's filed off towards the locker room, calling out to the manager that they're staying a bit later to run through some things. "Liam, stop taking everything I say so literally. We can stay here. Alone. Together. Get close and sweaty. Alone. Did I mention alone, Payno?"

Liam's frown smoothes out as Louis watches it click inside Liam's brain and his grin is unbelievably attractive. He moves into Louis' body, a furtive look around before he presses his lips against Louis', and fuck but it's not enough. Not when Liam's moving away from him, ignoring Louis' protests as he dribbles the ball about 20 yards away before passing it back to Louis.

"Come on then," Liam calls, looking both mischievous and gorgeous, hands on his hips as he waits for Louis. "They'll all be out of here in half an hour. Teach me your secrets to turning, Tommo."

Louis grins wolfishly before he races towards Liam and flicks the ball past him, making Liam laugh. Liam does actually learn a few tips before he gets distracted by the way Louis keeps pushing up against him, letting his hands linger on Liam's hips before he dances away, frustrating himself but enjoying the way Liam gets worked up more. Liam's no angel, grabbing for Louis too and rucking up his shirt when he can, his fingers trailing across Louis' skin.

"You think they've gone yet?" Louis asks breathlessly, as Liam's crowded up behind him and gyrating his hips against Louis' arse because Liam is actually the worst.

"Probably," Liam whispers into his ear before he bites down gently on Louis' earlobe and blatantly palms Louis through his shorts.

"Fuck," Louis grunts out before he arches his back and turns his head, capturing Liam's lips in a messy, slick kiss. "Wanted this for so long. Wanted you."

"Yeah?" Liam asks, but Louis can hear the dismissal in his voice.

"Yeah, actually," Louis says, determined to make Liam understand, even if he is stroking Louis through too many layers of clothes and driving him absolutely crazy. "Since we were kids. Just didn't realise it at the time."

"Me too," Liam murmurs, pressing a kiss against his neck. "Fancied you forever."

Louis shivers as Liam squeezes his dick gently. "Showers. We should definitely hit the showers."

"Here or back at the hotel?" Liam asks, and because he's terrible, he strokes Louis again.

"Fuck," is about all Louis can manage to say. He wants to get on his knees for Liam more than anything, but he's not sure how long he can wait. He'd be pretty pissed if he found out the others were getting off in their communal showers, but then again he'd probably understand if they had Liam's hand on their dick because it's pretty fucking delightful. "Hotel," he groans, shoving Liam away from him with force and racing inside. Liam's faster and catches him easily, chasing him inside. There's no one around, which is lucky because Liam's pushing him against the wall, kissing him like he needs to taste Louis like he needs air. Louis' not complaining, kissing him back just as hard. He gives them both this moment, dragging oxygen into his lungs with wracked breaths as Liam sucks on his tongue before he cups Louis' arse and lifts him up. Louis' got his legs wrapped around Liam's waist before he realises it and Christ, Liam's strong. He's got the perfect angle from where he's above Liam now, leaning down to kiss those pretty pink lips of his. When Liam slams him back against the wall, Louis groans as he bites down on Liam's bottom lip and sucks hard.

"If we don't leave now, I'm blowing you right here," Louis says into Liam's mouth, gasping when Liam presses in closer and their dicks rub together.

Liam's answering groan sounds like he's in as much pain as Louis is, which makes him feel better as Liam lowers him carefully and Louis steals one more fierce kiss before he grabs his bag and runs for the door, Liam on his heels. Liam reaches for his hand as they sprint for the hotel, not stopping as they slide into a waiting elevator and deliberately keep their distance inside as they wait for it to stop on their floor.

He crowds up behind Liam when they reach his room, kissing his neck and letting his hands wander under Liam's shirt. tracing the muscles that Louis' both envious of and grateful for. He's stripping off his own shirt as Liam opens the door, flinging it to the floor as he kicks off his Vans and drops his shorts and boxers, heading for the shower without even looking at Liam because if he does, they'll never make it to the shower.

He steps inside and turns the hot water on, grinning when he feels Liam behind him. He turns and pushes Liam against the cold tiles, sinking to his knees as he carefully closes his fist around Liam's already hard dick. He strokes him once before he leans in and licks at his tip carefully, Liam's groans making his own dick hard.

"Hands," Louis murmurs, sighing happily when Liam understands, his fingers twist into his hair, gently tugging him forward. Louis rubs Liam's tip against his lips before he flicks out his tongue to taste, humming as Liam's hands jerk in his hair, pulling him forward. He opens his mouth and slowly lets Liam inside, heavy on his tongue and filling him up. His tongue wraps around Liam before he starts to move slowly, whimpering weakly around Liam's dick every time Liam pulls on his hair.

He's missed this, Louis realises hazily. He loves giving blowjobs, and they're even better when he actually cares about the person he's blowing, rather than the odd one night stand he's had since he became more famous, choosing his partners more discreetly than he had as a teenager. He needs to make this good for Liam. He wants to make up for every single time he made Liam feel like shit. Like he wasn't the best person in the whole world.

Louis relaxes his throat and tips his head back slightly, feeling Liam slide further down inside his mouth. He chokes slightly and Liam pulls back, looking down in alarm, looking as wrecked as Louis feels. Shaking his head slightly, Louis stares up at Liam, letting go of his hold on Liam's hips and clasping his hands behind his back.

He silently pleads with Liam, needing this right now more than he's ever fucking needed anything else in his life.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Liam pulls Louis' hair back, causing his throat to open up. Louis' eyes flutter shut as Liam gently pushes forward, his throat closing around Liam's dick, his mind going blank, his jaw lax and he silently urge Liam on. Except a quick glance reveals that Liam looks like he's fucking _ruined_ , pupils blown, face flushed as he stares down at Louis with an emotion swirling in his eyes that Louis' not ready to name. Not yet.

Liam moves slowly, thrusting his hips gently and Louis forces himself to stay absolutely still, letting Liam fuck his mouth. He's so fucking hard and he wants to get a hand on himself but Louis stares up at Liam, determined to watch as Liam falls apart with a quiet sob, holding onto Louis' hair as he comes hard into Louis' mouth. Louis's eyes water as he chokes and Liam pulls out to quickly, dropping to his knees while Louis tries his best to swallow, swiping at his mouth as Liam tips his head back slowly, his hands gentle as his eyes trace Louis' face thoroughly.

"I'm fine," Louis croaks, his hand reaching down to squeeze his dick at the base, whimpering because he's still so fucking close.

"Let me," Liam pleads, pushing Louis up onto his feet. He can barely stand, leaning back against the wall as the water cascades down his body and Liam's hands hold him up and he nuzzles his cheek against Louis' painfully hard dick. "Breathe, babe. Just breathe."

Louis listens, breathing in shakily with his hand resting on Liam's cheek as he tries to find some semblance of control. He can feel Liam pressing tiny kisses around his hips and thighs and it helps, somehow. He calms down enough to relax a little, although he's grateful Liam doesn't move his hands from where he's probably still holding Louis upright.

"Okay," he whispers. Liam looks up at him, sweet and eager as Louis strokes his cheek. Liam leans in to kiss his tip, because he's utterly ridiculous but Louis kind of adores him so maybe he's a bit ridiculous too. Liam opens his mouth and Louis' unprepared for the sight of Liam's lips wrapped around his dick.

He swears silently as Liam's tongue drags along the underside of his dick. As he finds his rhythm, Louis' grateful that he's pinned against the wet tiles, although he's certain he's going to have bruises in the morning. He risks another glance down, Liam's lips plump and pink and gorgeous around his dick.

When Liam pulls off, Louis whimpers in frustration because he's close. So fucking close. He feels a pinch on his thigh and he looks down, face pained because Liam's a goddamn tease.

"Come on my face?"

He's honestly not sure whether Liam's asking him to for him, or whether he thinks Louis wants to. Because fuck, he really wants to. Nodding, Louis gets a hand on himself as Liam shuffles back and smiles shyly up at him. Louis jerks himself, eyes fixed on Liam's mouth, swollen and god, so pretty.

He comes with a low shout, streaks of white striping Liam's face over his cheeks and lips. He moans weakly as Liam flicks out his tongue, catching Louis' come and swallowing. Louis reaches down to scoop up more on his thumb before he pushes it into Liam's mouth and lets Liam suck him clean.

"Fuck," Louis manages, before he drags Liam up for a kiss. He shifts them under the spray and lets the water clean Liam's face before he carefully cleans Liam, methodically and gently. He lets Liam do the same for him before they step out and dry off, towels wrapped around their waists. It takes forever for them to get into bed because Liam keeps nuzzling into his neck and Louis keeps kissing his chest, but they make it eventually. Liam winds himself around Louis' back and he falls asleep, Liam's hand splayed across his belly, warm and content.

*

Zayn knows he's probably the laziest fucker on the team, but even he feels more energetic than usual. Maybe it's because he's in the throes of a new relationship, where he hasn't even gotten to kiss all his boyfriends yet (something he plans to remedy as soon as possible). Maybe it's because he got the best night's sleep last night, Niall curled up behind him and Harry starfished out next to Niall, soft snores filling Niall's hotel room. Maybe it's because he now knows exactly how Harry's lips look, stretched around his cock, eyes heavy with want as he'd sucked Zayn off last night, slow and teasingly. Maybe it's because Niall keeps running his hands over Zayn whenever they're within touching distance, his hands sure and steady and making Zayn lose focus a little. Maybe it's because he caught Louis and Liam holding hands under the table at breakfast. Happiness looks good on Liam, he's realised. Liam's mouth was made to smile and he can't wait to see what else Liam's mouth is made. He's got his suspicions though.

Maybe it's because wherever he looks, he's got a fit, happy boyfriend grinning at him with promises for later. It makes a lad want to run faster, try harder, aim better.

As a team, they're working better together than ever, telegraphing moves before they're made and increasing their pass rates to higher levels than Zayn's ever had before. He knows he's not meant to be laughing and smiling as much as he is, playing this beautiful game that he loves so much with these boys who've come to be almost too important to him in such a short time, but he can't help it.

When Harry suggests a post-training penalty shoot out, Zayn slings his arm around Harry and agrees far too easily. But Harry's sweaty, his curls hanging loosely around his face and Zayn wants to touch. Breathe. Have.

Liam offers to go in goal if Louis will switch on his turn. Zayn knows Liam's not really trying all that hard on the first few rounds, shots going past him too easily and Liam having too much fun flirting with all of them as they take their shots. Zayn knows penalties are a weak point in his game. He's too easily psyched out by the goalie. But he scores the first three before he steps up for his fourth. Liam raises his eyebrows and blows him a kiss before he settles down into position. Zayn grins, stepping back to pace out his run up.

He only misses because Liam grabs his dick. He stumbles, miss-kicking the ball entirely and it flies wide as Liam starts laughing, racing forward to wrap his arms around Zayn like steel bars.

"Fucking cheat," Zayn grumbles, slightly mollified by the kiss Liam leaves on his neck.

"I'll let you fuck me later," Liam mumbles, cheeks flushed before he pulls away and races back to the goal, head down but Zayn can see the smile. It fucking shines like a beacon.

He makes his way slowly to the side, flopping down the ground and closing his eyes, fighting a smile. He's so lost in thoughts about how exactly he'd like to fuck Liam (he's tossing up having Liam ride him or just bending him over the nearest surface he can find because he's not sure he's got any willpower when it comes to Liam) that he jumps when he feels someone fall on top of him.

"Fucking Liam," Harry grouses, shifting until he's laying on top of Zayn, long legs settled between Zayn's as he nuzzles into his neck.

"He get you out too?" Zayn asks, amused as he strokes Harry' s hair back from his face. He always looks so young, Zayn thinks. His face still carries the traces of baby fat, soft and smooth and innocent, although Zayn knows he's anything but.

"Lifted his shirt up," Harry moans, making Zayn laugh as he slides his hands up and down Harry's back, feeling the firm muscle underneath that always takes him surprise. Harry's long, muscled body is at complete odds to the way Harry flops onto the nearest person he can find, curling up small even though he's the tallest of all of them. A bag of contrasts, Zayn thinks, kissing the top of Harry's head comfortingly. "Have you seen his abs?!"

Harry sighs as he shifts up, tipping his head back as he smiles sweetly at Zayn. It's at complete odds with the way his eyes are zeroed in on Zayn's lips, his tongue flicking out to wet his own.

"Liam's not the only sneaky fucker here," Zayn mumbles, hearing Harry's quick laugh before he leans down and kisses him.

He never gets what he's expecting from Harry, though. He's surprised when Harry keeps the kiss lazy and sweet and teasing, their lips sliding against each other languidly. Harry's a heavy, welcome weight and he rocks his body slowly against Zayn's, a tantalising rhythm that Harry matches with his wickedly sinful mouth.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met," Harry mumbles, his lips tracing a path down Zayn's neck and finding that tiny spot near his collarbone that makes him shiver and groan. He's aware that Harry's hands are on his shirt, pulling it upwards and he leans up on his elbows, helping Harry to get it off. Lazy kisses press into his chest and he sighs, his hands tangled in Harry's curls as he lets Harry wander and tease.

"No fucking on the training pitch!"

Zayn waves off Louis' order, glancing down at Harry who grins back up at him as his fingertips trace the waistband of Zayn's shorts. Laughing silently, he doesn't push Harry away, willing to go wherever Harry wants to lead in this moment.

"I've seen you a hundred times," Harry murmurs, and Zayn can feel him smiling against his belly. "In magazines, those giant billboards. Probably know your body as well as mine."

"You ever wanked to those pictures?" Zayn asks, curious. Harry's low, delighted laugh is his answer.

"Can't believe I get to do this," Harry continues, and Zayn's starting to get the impression that Harry's a talker in bed. "Can't believe any of this, really."

"Not sure this is the most normal thing in the world to be doing," Zayn agrees, tugging Harry up to plant a kiss on his lips and smooth his thumbs against Harry's cheeks. He stares at bright, green eyes and feels his belly swoop. "But it seems to work for us."

"Imagine winning the World Cup with your four boyfriends," Harry says dreamily, his head dropping down to Zayn's shoulder as they snuggle on the cold, hard training pitch.

"Fucking Liam." Louis' loud grumbling, followed by Liam's faint laughter, interrupts them. "Fucking Liam and his stupid hands and stupid legs and stupid face."

"You seemed to like his hands this morning at breakfast," Zayn says idly as Louis glares at him. Zayn doesn't miss the way Louis' eyes soften a little though. He tugs Louis in, settling him into his side as Harry wriggles across him until Louis has a handful of long-limbed, clingy boy.

"Better?" he hears Harry whisper to Louis as he slips back into his daydreams about fucking Liam. He misses Louis' answer but he's stopped grumbling, at least.

Niall wins, much to Liam's annoyance. shoving Niall away playfully as Zayn watches them approach.

"Guys, we don't have a game tomorrow," Niall says easily, tugging Harry to his feet as Liam reaches out a hand for Zayn that he clasps gratefully. He chooses not to let go when he's standing, twisting their fingers together as Liam grins into his shoulder.

"I'm not eating crap and drinking, Nialler," Louis tells him as he gets to his feet and they head inside. "I don't care how the Irish team trains."

"Well I was thinking we could all go back to Zayn's room and fuck, but you know." Niall's pouting and huffing, even while Louis tries to climb onto his back for a hug.

"Nialler! I'm sorry I interrupted you love," Louis coos in his ear, grinning when Niall turns so Louis can lay a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek, Niall's arms tightening around Louis' thighs. "You are wonderful and brilliant and that's the best idea I've heard since Liam suggested mutual handjobs this morning."

"Louis!" Liam protests, laughing as he starts stripping. "You are such a fucking menace."

Zayn listens to the boys arguing and shoving at each other as they head to the showers, watching Louis' hand linger on Niall's arse and Harry press up against Liam's back before they reluctantly head to separate showers.

It's the first time they'll all be together, he realises with a smile. As much fun as it is having Niall to himself, or sharing Niall and Harry, he really, really wants to get his hands on Liam tonight.

After all, he did promise. And Zayn's going to make sure he makes good on it.

*

Niall has to physically stop himself from rubbing his hands together with glee but he just about manages it, shoving them in his pockets as they head back to Zayn's room, Harry chatting next to him about bananas or something, Liam walking by himself ahead and ahead of him, Zayn and Louis whispering to each other and giggling.

He rushes them all into the elevator, feeling a bit like a sheepdog but not really caring because there's sex to be had and dicks to play with. He's not sure how this will all work but he's certain they can do it.

It doesn't come as a surprise when Harry's the first one down to his boxers. He's next, joining Harry on the bed as Liam and Louis move slower and of course Zayn is last.

"What's happening then?" Zayn asks slowly, his gaze raking over all the lads with a positively wicked grin. "Liam's mine."

Amused, he reaches out for Louis and tugs him down, settling him between his legs. "I want this one."

"I'm not a _toy_ , Niall," Louis protests indignantly, but his fingers are dancing along the inside of Niall's thighs, just where he's sensitive. He leans down to bite down on Louis' collarbone, Louis' tightened grip on his thigh telling him he chose well.

"Fuck off Harry," Niall murmurs cheerfully, hearing Harry's protests as he clambers off the bed and he assumes joins Liam and Zayn on the other. He's not really paying attention though because Louis' tipped his head back onto Niall's shoulder, exposing his throat for Niall to press long, wet kisses against.

He splays his hands over Louis' taut belly, feeling Louis' breathing hitch as he thumbs his way down and palms Louis' semi-hard dick through his boxers. The way Louis arches into his touch makes Niall a bit lightheaded, feeling his own dick swell against Louis' arse.

"Please tell me you have condoms, Zayn," Niall mutters before he nips at Louis' jaw. He tilts Louis' head towards him, angling so he can kiss him, his other hand still palming Louis to full hardness. He slips his hand lower, cupping his balls and squeezing gently, huffing out a laugh when Louis nips his bottom lip with sharp teeth.

Something lands on the bed next to him. He pulls away from Louis long enough to register the bottle of lube and strip of condoms, grinning up at Zayn who's lying curled up with Liam and Harry, a heap of limbs and hair from what Niall can see. Louis draws his gaze back, rocking his hips up into Niall's hand.

"Why don't you wriggle out of those babe?" Niall suggests quietly, shifting his hands to Louis' arms as he quickly sheds his boxers. Niall gives himself a minute to just stare at Louis, naked and tanned against Niall's paler body, his dick hard and swollen against his belly, toned and muscular legs stretching out, tangled with his.

"You wanna come first Lou?" Niall asks softly, feeling overwhelmingly protective over Louis in this moment. "You wanna come before I fuck you?"

He feels Louis trembling, a tiny whimper escaping his lips. "Yeah, yeah I wanna come first."

Niall kisses him like a reward, tongues tangled together as he slides his hand back down Louis' body, enjoying Louis' firm muscles before he gets a hand on Louis' dick. He strokes him once carefully, feeling the weight in his hand and the way Louis pulses in his hand. He's certain he doesn't imagine the painfully quiet _more_ that escapes Louis' lips, tightening his grip and letting his thumb trail on the underside of his cock. "Liam was right, you have such a pretty cock."

Louis' quiet whine forces his fist to move quicker, Louis' kisses becoming sloppier as Niall thrusts his tongue into Louis' mouth and jerks him off.

"Look at you looking so beautiful," Niall says into the silence, knowing the other three are watching, probably as turned on as he is right now. But he's the only one who gets to fuck Louis tonight, and that makes him feel incredible. "You were always going to be the first to come with five of us in a room together. Everyone's watching you, Lou. Watching you being so beautiful. Watching you fall apart so prettily."

"Fuck, Niall," Louis groans, his hips rocking up as Niall strokes him, feeling Louis tense against him.

"Come for your boyfriends, babe," Niall whispers, low enough that only Louis can hear him properly. "All of us."

When Louis comes, it's with a broken cry and shaking legs, Niall's fist dripping with Louis' come as he strokes Louis through it.

Louis slumps back against him, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body as Niall lifts his hand and licks it clean, eyes on Louis as he watches through hooded lids.

"You ready for me to open you up, Lou?" Niall asks, his voice rough with need.

Louis nods slowly, lifting himself up with a wince to let Niall slide out, laying back against the mattress as he grabs a pillow and puts it under his hips. Niall settles between his legs, taking a mental photograph of Louis spread out before him, eyes languorous as he keeps his gaze on Niall.

Niall drizzles lube over his fingers, coating them well before he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the inside of Louis' thigh. He pushes Louis' legs further apart, wanting to stretch him as far as possible. His index finger circles against Louis' puckered hole, teasing until he turns his head, bites down on Louis' thigh and slides his finger in, grinning as he hears Louis' shout. He licks at the red, bitten skin as he lets Louis adjust to the feel of his finger inside, amused when Louis starts swearing at him.

"Helped you relax didn't it?" Niall mutters cheerfully as he starts to move his finger, sliding in and out until Louis feels relaxed enough for him to add a second. He moves slowly, scissoring gently, smattering kisses along Louis' thigh, grinning when he sees Louis' dick twitch.

By the time he works in a third, Louis' semi-hard, his face flushed and his hair plastered against his head. "So beautiful, Lou," he murmurs soothingly, his fingers sliding in and out easily now. He trails kisses up over his hip and, shooting Louis a filthy grin, he swallows Louis down, humming happily when Louis groans loudly, filling his mouth as he swells against Niall's tongue.

When he's fully hard, Niall pulls off, wriggling out of his boxers and reaching for a condom. He rolls it on quickly, coating himself in lube and positioning himself with a slight strain that he ignores.

"Harry," he mutters, not taking his eyes of Louis. "You wanna join us?"

A yelp and a scrambling noise tells him it's a yes. He stretches out on the bed next to Louis, reaching in to kiss him as Niall pushes in slowly, his face tight in concentration. Only when he's bottomed out does he look up to see Louis and Harry furiously kissing, Harry's hand stroking Louis' dick.

God they're pretty.

He starts to move, watching as Louis gasps into Harry's mouth before he pulls back, pupils dilated as he stares up at Niall.

Harry tucks himself into Louis' side and keeps stroking Louis, trying to match his rhythm to Niall. The effect on Louis is incredible; Niall can feel him shaking.

"So good, Lou," Harry murmurs, low and husky.

Louis says something that Niall misses, but Harry just laughs softly. "You can come, babe. Just let go. Let me and Niall make you feel good, yeah?"

Niall leans down, meeting Louis halfway for a slack kiss before Louis falls back against the bed and arches his hips, breathing heavily. Niall slams into him twice more before Louis comes into Harry's hand, breathtakingly beautiful.

Niall's hips stutter before he thrusts again before he comes, tensing before he falls onto Louis, absolutely spent.

It's Harry's tiny gasp that has him turning his head and opening his eyes to see Harry pressing down on his dick, face flushed with his eyes closed.

"Harry, you can come," Niall says tiredly, not wanting to move. "Just wank, already."

He feels Louis shift, making Niall whine in protest, but he's vaguely aware that Louis' got his hand on Harry's dick and is stroking him, his hand covering Harry's.

"Don't jizz on my face," Niall murmurs, half asleep even though he knows he needs to pull out of Louis and get rid of the condom and maybe clean up the mess on their tummies.

It's not long before Niall hears Harry's whimper and he hopes he came in Louis' hand because he might just sleep here and he'll be really fucking pissed if there's a wet spot.

*

Zayn's had his hand down Liam's boxers for the last five minutes, watching the other boys as they come apart.

"Beautiful," Zayn murmurs in his ear as Niall stirs on the other bed, drawing Liam's attention back to him.

"Yeah, they were," Liam agrees breathlessly. Zayn grins into his shoulder because he knows now that Liam likes to be teased. He's teased him towards three orgasms and stopped each time, waiting for Liam to stop trembling before he starts stroking again.

"I meant you," Zayn whispers, feeling the shiver that races down Liam's spine. He knows they're both too close for this to last long but he doesn't much care. He just wants to bury himself in Liam and forget everything for a few moments, to just focus on Liam and draw their world down to each other.

He helps Liam out of his boxers, dragging his own off too before he pulls Liam on top of him.

"Hey," Liam says, smiling widely.

Zayn laughs, reaching up to brush his hands through Liam's hair. "Hey, beautiful."

Liam ducks his head, a flush spreading across his cheeks. He rocks his hips, laughing softly when their dicks catch and Zayn hisses quietly.

"You want to ride me, Leeyum?" Zayn asks as Liam leans down for a kiss. It's a slow, steady kiss that still has Zayn's heartbeat speeding up helplessly, his hands locked on Liam's waist.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah, I wanna do that."

Zayn fumbles for the spare bottle of lube and pushes it into Liam's hands, smiling as he pushes Liam gently until he's sitting up, straddling Zayn's hips. "Open yourself up for me, babe."

Biting down on his bottom lip, Liam opens the bottle and squirts it onto his fingers. He rises up onto his knees and reaches back, sighing as he slides a finger inside.

Zayn's not sure he's ever seen anything hotter. He reaches up to pull Liam's lip away from his teeth. If anyone's going to be biting Liam, it'll be him. Liam's watching him, eyes soft and slow.

"Another finger babe," Zayn orders gently, pleased when Liam does. He lets his hands trace smooth strokes down Liam's chest and over his hips, travelling down to his strong thighs. "You gonna put on a show for your boyfriends, babe? Like Louis did?"

"Y-yeah," Liam says, stumbling over his words as he glances over to the others. When Zayn looks over, they're curled together and clearly someone had made it to the bathroom because they look clean and pink, freshly scrubbed.

"Gonna be so good for them babe, aren't you?" Zayn coerces gently. "Gonna show them how good you are. Make them want you even more than they already do."

"Y-y-ye-ah," Liam stutters, and Zayn's certain he's got a third finger in himself. He's riding down on his fingers, eyes closed and tanned body all but gleaming with sweat. Zayn reaches for a condom, Liam's eyes flying open at the rip of the packet, wincing as he pulls his fingers out. "Let me?"

Zayn nods, handing it over and keeping himself still as Liam carefully rolls it down his hard dick. He pours more lube into Liam's hand and lets Liam stroke him, both of them pretending that he's lubricating Zayn rather than jerking him off.

"Now, babe," Zayn says shakily, reaching up to help guide Liam down onto him.

Liam goes slowly. Painfully slowly. Perhaps in revenge, Zayn thinks deliriously as he feels Liam tighten around him. He groans as Liam finally sits back, smug smile on his face that Zayn's horribly endeared by. Or he would be, if he could think right now.

"Move, Liam," he grits out, sighing as Liam starts to rock back and forth. He gets a hand on Liam's dick, stroking slowly as Liam throws his head back and lets out a low whine.

Fuck, it feels good but it's not what he wants. "C'mon Liam babe," Zayn urges, a little more desperately, his thumb brushing over Liam's slit like a bribe. "Ride me."

Liam groans but he lifts himself up, reaching down for Zayn's other hand as he moves and Zayn lifts his hips as Liam slams down and fuck, that's what he wanted. They find their rhythm, Zayn's hand stilling on Liam's dick momentarily as he just stares up at Liam, beautiful and devastating, riding himself on Zayn.

"Zayn," Liam whimpers, falling forward and holding himself up with a hand on the mattress and the other on Zayn's shoulder. He keeps moving, his hips moving so fucking beautifully that Zayn's fighting to hold himself back, trying to wait until Liam comes, wanting to see every second of Liam falling apart on his cock.

He reaches between them, his fingers sure as they wind around Liam's dick, flicking his wrist quickly as he feels Liam trembling, muscles strained as he climbs higher.

"Zayn, I'm gonna come," he warns breathlessly, eyes fastened to Zayn's as his breath catches. Zayn twists his hand on the upstroke, hearing Liam's wrecked cry and feeling Liam's come splash onto his belly. His hands move to Liam's waist, holding him up as his hips lift, thrusting into Liam twice before he comes with a shudder, Liam dropping forward to collapse onto his chest, Zayn's arms lifting to wrap around him and hold him close while they both tremble, sweaty and utterly depleted.

The only sounds in the room are Liam and Zayn's heavy breathing, until Zayn feels Liam lifting away from him. He's not done with cuddles yet, protesting as he makes grabby hands at Liam, only to see Louis peering down at him with a grin.

"Let's get you two cleaned up then you can cuddle all night," he says, not unkindly. Zayn stumbles to his feet, disposing of the condom with a grimace before Louis helps him into the bathroom, passing him a wet cloth and the hotel's spare toothbrush and toothpaste. Liam appears at his side looking as dishevelled as he does, nudging him with his hip and they get an eye roll from Louis but he leaves them to it.

"We're staying here tonight, right?" Liam asks, his voice still a bit husky, but Zayn can hear the note of uncertainty hiding behind the words. He rinses his mouth out and waits for Liam to do the same before he pulls him in, hands linked loosely behind Liam's back.

Just the two of them. "Yeah," he says quietly, kissing the corner of Liam's mouth, seeing it lift into a smile. "We're staying here tonight."

Liam smiles into his neck before they head back into the room, Liam dropping into the dogpile of bodies on the other bed, giggling as he's smothered in kisses by Niall and Harry while Louis tries to shove him off.

Zayn leans in to kiss Louis, perhaps as a distraction but also because he really wants to. It's enough to quieten him long enough for Liam to wriggle free. Zayn drops a kiss on Harry and Niall too, ignoring Harry's suggestion that they could all fit in one bed (they absolutely can't, sometimes Zayn thinks Harry forgets he's a grown man with flailing limbs), and slides into bed with Liam, turning on his side so Liam spoons behind him, his hand resting on Zayn's hip.

He feels a brush of lips against his shoulder before Liam curls into his body and they drift off to sleep.

*

Niall's up first, leaving everyone sleeping as he heads for his own room to shower and change. They've got an easy day today, only light training which mostly means pissing about before their match tomorrow, so Niall heads for breakfast with a skip in his step and greed in his eyes when he sees the buffet.

He's already inhaled a bowl of cornflakes before Harry slides into the seat next to him, looking adorably sleepy and docile and eyeing up his fried breakfast.

"You should eat more fruit," Harry decides, his words more drawn out than usual.

"Fruit won't get me through the day, Harry," Niall says as primly as he can manage with a mouthful of bacon.

Harry just smiles dopily at him before he gets up, leaving Niall to swallow his mouthful and shovel a forkful of beans and egg into his mouth.

"I'm a growing lad," he mutters to himself.

A bowl of chopped bananas and strawberries appears in front of him and Niall rolls his eyes but he knows he's going to eat it because Harry has magical powers of persuasion (or guilt). But he's finishing his fry up first.

He's halfway through his bowl of fruit with Harry beaming at him when Liam, Louis and Zayn join them. He lifts his eyebrows at Zayn's scowl, which seems to be directed at an oblivious Harry.

"Alright Zayn?" Niall asks warily.

"Harry keeps nicking my shirts," Zayn complains, which is when Niall realises that Harry's perfectly aware of Zayn's annoyance, he's just ignoring it. "He stretches all the necks out so they don't fit me anymore."

Niall sees Harry's tiny smirk before he covers himself.

"Uh, okay," Louis says, clearly bemused as he pats Zayn on the shoulder. "Niall, you want to help me with my penalty kicks today?"

"Sure," Niall says easily. With their history, it's always a good idea to practice spot kicks.

He lets his food digest while the others eat, rubbing his full belly and whispering with Harry, who admits that he likes Zayn's collarbones a lot and maybe he stretches Zayn's shirts on purpose.

Apparently, Louis' idea about practicing penalties varies greatly from his own. Like, Louis expects victory snogging after every successfully scored penalty. Niall's not adverse to the idea, and it certainly works as an incentive for Louis, but they spend more time rolling around on the pitch than they do practicing, although he's pretty sure his motivational speech about picking a corner and going for power and precision over mind games was a good one.

He's pretty sure that somehow that means Louis' actually learned something, he's just not sure what. And Louis won't let him up long enough to figure it out.

*

 Harry takes his time rifling through Liam's wardrobe before he decides against wearing something of his. Today doesn't feel like a Liam day, he decides for absolutely no reason at all. Liam's on his iPad lazing around on the bed, hair slightly curling from his earlier shower and Harry's half-tempted to not bother with stealing Liam's clothes and instead just focus on peeling them off him. But Liam looks tired, Harry thinks as he peers around the corner at him, attempting to be sneaky but Liam's grinning so perhaps he's a shit spy.

James Bond or not, Harry can see the tired lines around his eyes and the way his smile fades slightly at the corners, like he's not getting enough sleep. Instead, Harry finds a shirt that he's almost certain belongs to Zayn. He picks it up and sniffs it, grinning when he smells fresh cotton and grapefruit and yanks it on, tugging hard at the collar for good measure.

"Zayn's gonna kill you," Liam murmurs.

Harry looks up in surprise, but Liam can't even _see_ him so that's freaky. "He loves it really."

"Didn't love it last night when he didn't stop complaining about you ruining all his shirts for like, three hours straight," Liam points out, amused.

Harry tugs on the hem before he bounds around the corner and throws himself at Liam, pleased when he's caught easily and tugged down until they're lying together on the bed, tangled and Harry can lazily trace patterns on Liam's deeply tanned skin.

"Let's have a nap," Harry mumbles, more for Liam's benefit than his own, although he'd never turn down a cuddle.

"You're so weird," Liam says with a hint of bemusement, but he's already turning around so Harry can curl up behind him. Harry slips his arm under Liam's head to pull him closer.

"Sleep, then playtime down by the pool," Harry says firmly.

"Actual child," Liam mumbles, leaning in to kiss Harry's arm which is right in front of him.

Harry doesn't take it personally,of course. He never does, not when Liam's tucking his head into Harry's shoulder and sliding his leg back between Harry's so they're practically stuck together.

*

Mid-afternoon, Zayn wakes up from his poolside nap, bleary and possibly more tired than when he fell asleep, somehow. He can hear Liam yelling and there's a lot of splashing that makes him groan and cover his eyes with his arm, turning so he can lie on his belly and avoid whatever ruckus is going on behind him because it's too hot for any of this.

He feels someone moving around next to him and he opens an eye to glare when he sees Harry flopping down on the sun-bed next to him, loud canary yellow shorts barely covering his tanned long legs. But as nice as the view is, his gaze is zeroed in on his favourite Nirvana t-shirt. And the way it's already sagging around the collar, stretched over Harry's broader shoulders.

"Harry, what the fuck?" Zayn growls, sitting up and reaching out to pull Harry up and onto his feet. He keeps Harry steady when he stumbles, his fingers biting around Harry's wrist as he heads inside, barely registering the cool air conditioning of the hotel because he's _pissed_. "Don't say a fucking word," he warns as they step into the elevator and Harry promptly closes his mouth, although his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. Zayn's gaze narrows as he punches the button for their level.

Harry's silent as Zayn leads him, perhaps a little roughly, to his room, shoving him inside as he slams the door behind him.

"That's my favourite shirt," Zayn says quietly. Harry just stares back at him silently. "You keep wearing my fucking shirts, Harry."

"Look Zayn," Harry says, voice pitched low as his hands settle on his shorts waistband. "I'll replace them if you're really annoyed, okay?"

Zayn's laugh is low and amused, making Harry's eyebrows rise. He moves forward, light and fast on his feet, hands firm on Harry's hips as he pushes him back until he's flat against the wall. "I'm not annoyed, Harry." He rolls his hips forward and grins when he hears Harry's gasp when he registers how hard Zayn is. "I like you in my shirts."

Harry's grin is sudden and bright and far too knowing. Zayn's answering laugh is breathless and feels like it's dragged out of him. His hand slides round to palm Harry through his shorts, pleased when he feels how hard Harry is. He captures Harry's lips for a quick, fierce, filthy kiss before he drops to his knees, tugging Harry shorts down with him for Harry to step out of.

"Leave the shirt on," Zayn murmurs as he slides his hands back up Harry's legs, tracing a path that has Harry trembling underneath his touch. He lets one hand trail up past Harry's hip, dragging the hem of his shirt up, holding it up against Harry's taut belly. He nuzzles his cheek against Harry's hip, turning his head to flick his tongue out, catching Harry's shaft and hearing Harry stammers out a harsh breath.

He shifts until he's settled between Harry's legs, his other hand lifting until he's got two hands full of shirt, Harry spread beautifully in front of him. With a cheeky wink at Harry, he inches forward, mouth closing around the tip of Harry's dick and sucking hard, keeping his gaze fixed on Harry's face. He likes watching the way Harry's face relaxes, his hands softening where they're rested on Zayn's, his eyes bright and heavy.

Zayn opens his mouth, relaxes his throat and swallows Harry down, inch by inch, feeling the stretch of his jaw and the weight of Harry against his tongue, breathing in his scent and feeding off Harry's whimpers. He swallows until he feels Harry's dick at the back of his throat and stays still for a second, breathing heavily through his nose until he pulls back. He slides back down and lets his throat constrict around Harry for a second before he pulls back.

"Fuck, not gonna last," Harry mutters, his hands squeezing around Zayn's.

Zayn hums as he pulls back, fluttering his eyelashes as Harry groans loudly. Zayn can feel the tension building inside Harry, knows when he's about to come by the way his body freezes and his back arches off the wall. When Harry splutters into his mouth, he swallows what he can, letting the rest dribble out of his mouth as Harry pulls out, panting and weak.

"Jesus Zayn," Harry mumbles, eyes wide as Zayn flicks out his tongue to catch what he can, licking carefully and as loudly as he can.

Harry sinks to his knees, pulling Zayn in for a sloppy, filthy kiss, licking his own taste out of Zayn's mouth before he uses his thumb to clean up the rest of Zayn's face, pushing the cooling, white come past Zayn's lips, sucking Harry's thumb clean.

"Filthy," Harry mutters, sounding horribly pleased by it. "Thought you were all sweet and romantic after last night with Liam."

"Depends what I'm in the mood for I guess," Zayn says on a sigh, leaning in to kiss Harry again, keeping it light and easy this time.

Harry's hand moves to his chest, pushing gently until Zayn topples backwards, laughing as he lands on his back, Harry looming over him with a smile. "What are you in the mood for today, Zayn?"

"Whatever you feel like, babe," Zayn murmurs, feeling his heart flip in his chest as Harry grins, reaching for Zayn's waistband and tugging his shorts down.

He almost jumps when Harry presses a kiss against his ankle, dry and slow, before his lips trail upwards. "M'still wearing your shirt, Zayn."

"Yeah, I know," Zayn mutters, his fingers itching to grab Harry. "You look hot."

"Like wearing your clothes," Harry admits slowly, his lips grazing the side of Zayn's knee and making him shiver. "Feel like yours when I do."

"You are mine," Zayn says hoarsely as Harry mouths at his thigh, so achingly close to where Zayn wants his mouth. "We all are."

Harry hums as he settles his hands on Zayn's knees, pushing them apart so he's completely spread open for Harry. He shivers as Harry licks a stripe up his dick, because of course Harry is a fucking tease. "But sometimes, I just want to be yours. Like now."

"Just us, babe," Zayn groans as Harry swallows him down without finesse, his mouth wet and warm and more enthusiastic than skilled. "Jesus, Harry, slow down!"

Either he doesn't hear or he ignores Zayn, sucking hard as his head bobs quickly. Zayn doesn't bother trying to hold back, his hips arching as Harry slurps noisily around his cock, making the most lewd noises Zayn's ever heard.

He comes helplessly, Harry swallowing eagerly until Zayn pushes him off, wincing. Zayn feels Harry crawling up his body, curling around Zayn as they lay on the floor, Harry humming a tune Zayn doesn't recognise as he tries to catch his breath.

His hands curl around his shirt, hanging off Harry's shoulders and now probably ruined beyond all repair.

He's so glad he's got a suitcase full of shirts for Harry to ruin yet.

*

Niall's learning all the ways they deal with anxiety and nerves. He knows he talks too much, filling silences with annoying words that don't mean anything. Harry does the opposite, turning introspective and more clingy. He's currently curled into Liam's side, a leg slung over Liam's as they lazily eat breakfast.

He's glad the rest of the team don't seem to find their overly friendliness weird, although it's been a close call sometimes.

Liam gets tense and can't eat, probably worrying over everything that could go wrong. Having Harry to pet and comfort seems to help them both, Niall thinks as he finishes his fruit and pushes his plate away. Louis gets snappier, his comments more cutting. Zayn gets even more lethargic, barely moving unless he has to, like he's conserving energy or something. Niall leans into Louis, his teeth raking across his neck gently. It seems to soothe him a little.

It might be worse today because this is their last game in the group stages and they need to beat Costa Rica to ensure they progress to the rest of the tournament.

They make a slow, wary start to the game, knowing they need to win but not wanting to push forward and let in any goals. It's all level by the time the clock hits 70 minutes and Liam's urging them all to take a risk. He's hanging back, yelling at Niall that he's got the defence covered.

When Niall steals the ball, he looks up and passes to Harry, who races ahead. He passes to Ashton on the wing who makes a stunning cross. Niall watches, holding his breath as Louis brings the ball under control. He knocks the ball over to Harry who's made a lot of ground who takes a shot. He misses, and Niall curses as he starts to jog back into position. But he watches in stunned silence as Louis gathers up the rebound and sticks the ball cleanly in the back of the net, past the still grounded goalkeeper.

Niall spins on his heel and races towards Liam, who's nearest. He lays a smacking kiss on Liam's head as they hug, yelling and cheering.

"Thank fuck for that," Niall mutters into Liam's neck.

"If that's the winner, he's going to be unbearable," Liam mutters back, but Niall can hear the adoration hiding behind the words.

"If that's the winner, I'm shagging you tonight," Niall says cheekily before he races away, leaving a stunned and flushed Liam staring after him.

As it turns out, Louis' goal is the winner and Niall watches in amusement as the final whistle blows and Zayn kisses Louis dead on the mouth, stopping just short of snogging him live on camera. It's a close call though, and Niall can see Liam frowning over at them. He's pretty certain it's not from jealousy. The kiss is still freaking hot though and Niall makes a mental note to steal a kiss from both of them later. In private.

Niall holds himself back, sitting through the manager's talk and showering, heading back to the hotel in the bus with the boys, Zayn asleep on his shoulder while Niall caresses his thigh as much as he thinks he can get away with.

As soon as they're back at the hotel, they pile into Harry's room and Niall's got Louis up against the wall, kissing him enthusiastically. "So fucking good," he mutters, and even he's not sure if he's talking about Louis' football prowess or his kisses. He gets pushed out of the way as Liam steps in, his kiss softer but thorough, and Louis looks a bit of a mess when Liam pulls back, his hair messy and his lips pink and bruised. Zayn's kiss is relentless, not letting Louis breathe until Zayn steps away, leaving Harry to pull Louis to the bed with an easy grin.

"Time for your reward," Harry says happily, lifting Louis' shirt up and over his head before he drops down and tugs his joggers down, stripping Louis in record time. Niall's impressed. "Gonna fuck you so good, babe."

"We'll see, Harold," Louis says, his words sharp but the waver in his voice giving him away. Harry just laughs as he strips himself before he dives forward, Louis landing softly on his back as Harry smothers him in kisses, long drugging kisses and quick, darting kisses. Niall can feel himself getting hard as he watches Louis chasing Harry's mouth, giving up all pretence of being nonchalant as he silently begs for Harry's mouth.

Niall curls up in front of Zayn, tugging Liam down to lie his head down in Liam's lap as he settles in to watch.

Finally catching Harry's mouth, Louis bites down hard on his lip, laughing when Harry just grins back at him and pretends to bite at Louis' lip in revenge.

"Your mouth is ridiculous," Louis says breathlessly.

Harry giggles, dropping to kiss Louis' chest as his hands roam over his body, Louis arching into his touch. "You have no idea," Harry murmurs, and Niall sees the tremble that races through Louis' body at the promise. "I've been thinking that you deserve something special, for winning our match."

Louis blinks up at him and Harry leans down to kiss him fiercely. "Turn over, love."

Niall lifts his head as Louis scrambles to turn over, eyebrows raising as Harry slides a pillow under his hips.

Harry's hand smoothes over Louis' arse, quietly telling Louis how lovely it is. Louis squirms a little and turns his head to look at them. "You gonna let them see how much you enjoy your reward, Lou?"

"Yeah," Louis says shakily as Harry spreads his legs slowly, running his hands over the back of Louis' thighs before he lays down, spreading Louis' cheeks carefully.

Niall hears Louis swear as he reaches down to palm himself through his joggers. He can't see very well but he can hear the noises Harry's tongue is making against Louis' hole, contrasting with Louis' whimpers that just keep getting louder. Harry's pinning Louis' thighs to the mattress with his arms and Niall can see Louis straining against him, trying to rear up but this clearly isn't Harry' first time.

Jesus, Niall wants to try that next time.

Niall scrambles off the bed and strips, dragging Liam to his feet and helping him out of his clothes too. Liam's pupils are blown and he keeps staring at Louis and Harry while Niall's trying to get his boxers off.

"Liam!" Niall laughs, smacking his thigh, which has Liam flushing and finally helping Niall.

He pushes Liam down so he's sitting on the end of the bed and reaches for the bottle of lube Harry's conveniently placed there, slicking up his fingers as he hears Louis' muffled cry. A glance up at Liam tells him Louis' just come. He tilts Liam back a little, reaching down to circle his tight hole with his finger before he slides inside, hearing Liam's whine of approval as the lube bottle flies over his head. He hears the cap being opening and a rip of foil.

"Tell me what they're doing, Liam," Niall says suddenly.

"Louis' on his back," Liam says breathlessly."Harry's getting ready to fuck him."

"Tell me how Louis looks, babe," Niall says, pressing a kiss against the inside of Liam's thigh.

"Beautiful," Liam says with a smile. "Pre-" his voice drops off as Niall slides another finger in.

"Keep going, Liam," Niall orders gently, his fingers scissoring inside Liam. He leans forward to suck on Liam's tip gently, trying not to send either of them over the edge too quickly.

"So pretty," Liam says, his voice hoarser as his hand rests in Niall's hair. "He definitely enjoyed the reward."

A low groan sounds in the room and Niall looks up at Liam questioningly, even though he's certain he knows the answer.

"Harry's sliding inside Louis," Liam says, his breath a little shorter as Niall slides a third finger inside, opening Liam up. "They look amazing."

He can hear Louis now, chanting behind him. _Harder, harder, harder Harry, fuck, please_. His own dick is painful against the side of the bed, but he doesn't touch himself. He doesn't touch Liam either, except for where his fingers are sliding in and out easily now.

He pulls out, reaching for a tissue to clean his fingers as he pats Liam's thigh. "On your stomach, Liam."

Liam rolls back and turns, lying flat on the bed with his legs spread. Niall rolls on a condom and slicks himself up before he crawls up between Liam's legs, hands on his hips as he urges him up. Liam's arms bend in front of him, face buried in a pillow as he gets up on his knees.

Niall glances over to the other bed just in time to see Harry hit his orgasm, his hand pumping on Louis' dick, squeezing tightly as Louis comes for the second time.

Niall slides into Liam as Louis' cry dies down, hearing Liam's groan muffled and loud as he easily bottoms out. Zayn's hand reaches out to stroke Liam's hair as Niall starts to move, slowly at first before he speeds up, slamming his hips into Liam's arse.

"Want you to come just like this, Liam," Niall says urgently, suddenly desperate to see Liam fall apart on his cock. "No touching. Just this, yeah?"

He gets a loud whimper from the pillow that he takes as a yes. His fingers bit into Liam's skin as he pounds into Liam, sensing the changing tension in Liam's body as he nears his orgasm.

When Liam comes, Niall lets out a low moan, amazed that Liam actually came untouched. "Fuck," he mutters, tightening his grip as Liam threatens to fall forward, unable to keep himself up.

Niall comes quickly, his whole body shaking, falling forward against Liam's back as he shivers, hands stroking Liam's arms while everything slowly comes back into focus. A glance to his left tells him that Zayn's already come at least once, dick soft as he sprawls on the sofa, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

"Fucking voyeur," Niall mutters with absolutely no heat in his tone at all.

"Quite a show you lot put on," Zayn points out with a shrug. "Be rude not to, I reckon."

Niall huffs out a laugh and wonders if Liam would mind if he just stayed here all night, slumped against him. When he realises Liam probably wouldn't ever ask him to move, Niall pulls out carefully and rolls off Liam, tying the condom as Liam smiles weakly at him, looking thoroughly fucked out. A glance at the other bed tells him that Louis looks much the same way, Harry stroking Louis' hair and kissing him intermittently.

"Can't wait to see what happens if we get through to the quarters," Niall says cheerfully as Liam giggles adorably. Niall leans in for a kiss, wondering how the hell he's ever going to go back home, where none of these boys live. Liam and Louis are the only two who live in London, while he's in Derby, Zayn's in Manchester and Harry's in Liverpool.

He tries not to think about it that much, but the thought won't leave him alone. It's a hell of an incentive to win, on top of eternal glory and adulation, he thinks with a wry smile.

*

As it turns out, their last 16 match is practically a walk-through against Greece, with Harry scoring a hat-trick and putting him on target to win the Golden Boot. They celebrate by giving Harry an orgasm per goal. He ends up passing out for a few moments, worrying Zayn and Liam until he comes to, exhausted and spaced out. Zayn and Liam sleep either side of him, and Zayn's pretty sure Liam doesn't sleep all night through worry.

It's the first time Zayn realises how closely they've entwined together, the five of them. They've fallen into each other so easily and everything's been fun and hot and everything Zayn never knew he wanted. But he cares about them much more than he thought possible, and the speed of that bond scares him, if he's being honest. It's little things, like the way Harry and Niall curl around each other while they watch movies, hands entwined as they whisper together. It's the way Liam's always touching him, a hand to his back, a lingering smile. It's the way Louis and Liam smile at each other sometimes when they think no one's watching, soft and with meaning that Zayn could probably never understand. It's the way Harry lets Louis boss him around but a quiet word from Harry will settle Louis immediately. It's the way Niall makes Liam laugh, and how pleased he looks with himself when Liam's eyes crinkle. It's the way Harry looks at him sometimes, like he's something special.

But nothing compares to how he feels when they're 2-1 up in the quarter finals with thirty minutes to go and he watches helplessly as someone tackles Liam, sliding in with both feet. It's a dangerous tackle and Zayn sees it all happen in what feels like slow motion. The way Liam's legs crumple beneath him. The heavy way he crumples to the ground, hands reaching for his left ankle. The pain on his face that Liam's trying desperately to hide.

The entire team swarms around Liam, some of the players up in the referee's space which Zayn knows Liam will hate. Liam never lets his players argue with the referee, but their captain's just been brought down and they're angry.

Zayn's mostly just terrified. Niall reaches him first, dropping to his knees as Zayn races up, hearing Liam swearing that he's fine, although they know he's not. The stretcher appears, much to Liam's annoyance, swearing that he can walk. He gets to his feet gingerly and Zayn has to stop himself from reaching out to just lift him up over his shoulder and carry him off the pitch.

Niall and Louis slide under his arms, helping him hobble and Liam smiles at his worried team. "You can win this, okay? Just keep playing the way you're playing. Stay tight on your man. And get the ball to Harry when you can, okay?"

He pauses, tapping Louis on the shoulder as he shifts and pulls the captain's armband from his sleeve. He turns, searching his team carefully. "Harry?"

"Yeah Liam?" Harry darts forward, seemingly relieved to have an excuse to be close to Liam, his hand reaching out to clasp Liam's wrist like he's checking for himself that Liam's okay. Liam turns his wrist to hold Harry's hand, and a look passes between them as Zayn leans into Louis.

"All yours, Hazza," Liam says quietly. He nods at Louis and Niall and hobbles off the pitch, leaving a stunned Harry, mouth moving silently, holding the captains armband.

"Alright, captain?" Zayn says softly, nudging Harry. "Let's win this for Liam, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry says, still looking stunned. He shakes his head, curls falling over his headband before his back straightens and his eyes focus. He seems to age a few years just from the responsibility and maybe from the belief Liam just placed on his shoulders. It's a good look on him. "Yeah, for Liam."

They hold their lead and at the final whistle the team bundles into Harry, dragging him to the ground as they cheer and whoop.

"Let's go see our real captain," Harry says breathlessly after they've gotten to their feet and applauded the crowd. Liam's still in with the physio so they shower and change, and despite their protests, they're ordered onto the bus and told that Liam will be released later. It's sombre back at the hotel. Not even Niall can raise a smile as they wait in Louis' room. Every second seems to last an hour and there's an odd hum in the air that hasn't ever hung above them before.

Maybe it's because none of them are touching. Zayn's on the chair, Niall's on the floor, staring at the telly although Zayn's pretty sure Niall couldn't tell any of them what he'd been supposedly watching for the past three hours, Harry's on one bed, curled up and watching the blank screen on his phone and Louis' pretending to be asleep. Except Zayn knows Louis' a fidget in bed and he hasn't moved even an inch in far too long. It's fucking unnatural.

When they hear a knock at the door, no one moves for a second as they look up and perhaps they're all doing what he's doing: confirming that it's not in his head. That he hasn't willed himself to hear an imaginary knock. Then it's a scrambling race to open it, won by absolutely none of them as they almost fall through the doorway in their eagerness.

Liam's face lights up, and Zayn feels a surge of relief as tension that he hadn't been aware he was holding onto just dissipates.

"Hey," Liam says brightly, laughing as Harry tries to kiss his face and Niall's clinging to his arm and Louis' running his hands over Liam's body, possibly checking for breaks because Louis always assumes the worst. Zayn's just taking in the fact that Liam doesn't seem to be on crutches, which is great, and he no longer has that pale, strained look of pain. "Um, can we go inside maybe?"

Zayn grabs Liam's hand and guides him to the bed, pushing him down as they stand over him, arms crossed.

"What did the physio say?" Zayn asks.

"Rest for the day, light training tomorrow, should be fine by the semis," Liam says quickly, his eyes bright with his own relief. "Well done, by the way. I knew you could do it."

"Did it for you," Niall says as he gives in and crawls onto the bed, tucking himself into Liam's side.

"You did it for the team," Liam corrects because he's _Liam_ and never able to be anything but a team player. He holds out his hand to Harry, pulling him for a cuddle. "Thank you."

"I never want to be captain ever again," Harry mumbles into Liam's chest, his face buried as Liam strokes his curls. "S'your job."

Liam just hums quietly as Zayn tugs Louis down to settle themselves over Niall and Harry, careful to avoid nudging Liam's legs just in case.

*

As it turns out, Liam is both the best patient and the worst patient in the world. Niall gets more and more visibly upset, every time he asks Liam if he can get him anything and Liam keeps saying no. Zayn has to poke him in the side eventually and whisper to Liam to let Niall get him something before he cries.

Liam quickly decides he'd like lunch, and Niall races to the phone, relief visible on his face. Louis helps Liam shower and Liam grumbles because they actually _just_ shower, Harry insists on feeding Liam his entire dinner, despite Liam's protests that it's his leg that's injured, not his hands and tries to get Harry to lick his lips clean and Zayn curls up with Liam when his eyes start drooping.

*

The closer they get to the finals, and the weight of what could be hangs heavier around their shoulders, the harder it is to relax. Niall and Harry play a lot of golf. Zayn sleeps more. And Louis spends a lot of time annoying Liam, and being annoyed by Liam in return.

He fucking loves it. Especially when Liam gets the all-clear to play in the semi-final against Germany. Of course it's Germany, Louis thinks with a scowl. He can just imagine every single England fan, screaming at their telly because national fucking pride is at stake and there's no one England hates more in a football than Germany. Or maybe Argentina, but they're playing Brazil in the later semi-final. Either way it's not going to be easy. And Louis can't wait.

The nerves hit as soon as he steps out onto the pitch, trying not to break the hand of the little boy he's been paired with. Louis tries to give him a reassuring smile, but the boy just stares blankly back at him.

Probably supporting Brazil, Louis thinks sourly as they line up for the national anthem and maybe he leans a little into Zayn because Zayn is the steadiest rock he has in his life.

It's awful. It's by far the hardest match they've played so far and the heat is unbearable and his legs feel like lead. Running through treacle would probably be easier at this point.

When the whistle blows and it's a draw, Louis wants to cry at the thought of another thirty minutes of football. But Liam's still trying to rouse the team, not sinking to the ground like the rest of them, so Louis springs to his feet and claps his hands together, urging the rest of the players to stand up too and create a huddle even though all he wants to do is run inside, stick his head under a cold shower and get the slick layer of sweat off his body. But, Liam. He sighs as Harry's hand presses into his back and his shirt sticks even more to his skin.

If he'd thought the match was terrible, extra time is a hundred times worse. Hardly anyone can move on either team and there's a heavy cloud of resignation on every player's face. By the end of extra time, Louis' heart won't stop racing though because he fucking hates penalties. They're the worst things ever invented and it's the worst way to leave a competition. After 120 minutes of football, of being too evenly matched to break through, to go out on a game of mental strength is cruel in anyone's book.

Liam loses the toss and go second. The first player for Germany scores, of course. Louis' heart sinks. He knows he's fifth, and hoping he won't have to even step up to the spot, one way or another. Harry scores, turning to give them a cheeky wink as he jogs back and Liam slaps him on the arse and Niall pulls him in for a hug. The second player for Germany scores.

Fuck.

Niall steps up and smashes the ball into the back of the net, a practically perfect penalty. Liam ruffles his hair and Zayn rubs his arm. The third player for Germany scores.

Zayn sends the ball just over the crossbar and Louis' stomach swoops, even as he watches Zayn's shoulders slump before he turns around, slowly making his way back to the team. Liam hugs him fiercely and Harry and Niall surround him, murmuring words that Louis can't hear, blocking everything out. He can't focus on Zayn right now. He just can't.

Heart racing, he watches the fourth German player miss, saved by Michael to enormous cheers. Liam steps up and of course scores because he's perfect and the best captain, a perfectly placed penalty as he races back, eager to watch the final German player take his penalty.

They're arm in arm, the entire team, as they watch with held breath. He feels sick. He feels completely outside of himself, watching from a distance. It's the weirdest fucking moment he's ever experienced in his life.

The German player fucking _misses_.

He barely hears Liam's yell of encouragement. He blocks out every single sight and sound except for the ball, the keeper and the net. It's the only way he manages to keep putting one foot in front of the other, moving further away from his team. From the boys. From his boys.

Louis' used to pressure. It comes with the career he's chosen. But he's never felt the expectation of a nation quite the same way before as he makes his way slowly towards the goal, where the ball waits for him on the spot. He picks it up and repositions it just where he wants it as he steps back for his run up. A quick glance at the goalie for the mental match of nerves. Focusing all his attention on the ball. Visualising the goal. His mind flicking back to that day with Niall. Between kisses and rolling around, trying to get his hands down Niall's joggers. Precision. Power. Placement.

He takes his run up towards the ball, swings his foot back and connects, watching the ball fly gracefully through the air. The keeper's dived the right way and Louis holds his breath in utter silence.

The ball skims past the keeper's outstretched glove and hits the back of the net.

There's white noise and everything's hazy but Louis finds himself buried under too many bodies, his lungs filled with the scent of grass and sweat and fucking victory.

They're going to the World Cup final.

They've made history already.

They could make more.

"Get off me you wankers," Louis says when he can't breathe anymore. And then it's back to the locker room for showers and loud, off-key songs and Harry whipping Zayn's arse with his towel and Zayn chasing a giggling Harry into a cubicle with revenge in his eyes (although Louis' pretty certain there are quick, adrenaline-fuelled handjobs being exchanged judging by the flush in Harry's cheeks and the dreamy look in his eyes when they file onto the bus.

Louis' expecting them to head up to someone's room when they fall out, but Liam's leading them straight to the bar, lining up shots and beers for the entire squad.

"We made it to the final," Liam explains as the team gathers around. "You all deserve a night to celebrate. Enjoy it. And training starts at midday tomorrow."

There's a round of good-natured groans but Liam ignores them and passes out the shots.

Louis loses count of how many drinks he's had. All he's aware of is how much fun he's having and how everyone keeps kissing him like he's some kind of hero.

"You're the hero," Louis mumbles into Niall's neck, draping himself over Niall's lean, wiry frame, pleased when Niall's arm curls around him. "Just did what you said."

"So you _were_ listening then," Niall says, amused. He's nowhere near as drunk as Louis, but Louis' bored of hearing about how it's his good Irish genes at play. "Thought you were just tryin' to shag me."

"Was," Louis admits cheerfully, taking the glass of water Zayn hands to him with a beaming smile. "Just happened to be listening as well."

Niall hands him over to Zayn, and Zayn's just really pretty. Louis traces a finger over his nose, grinning terribly when Zayn's fingers slip under his shirt. "Harry gave me a present last time I won a game," Louis says, as innocently as he can. He stares as Zayn's eyes narrow on his mouth and Louis leans in helplessly. "Gonna fuck me, Zee?"

"Maybe, if you're good," Zayn mutters, his grip on Louis' waist tightening, making Louis huff out a long breath as he shuffles closer, pressing his body against Zayn's.

To Louis' annoyance, Zayn doesn't drag him off for a shag in the nearest empty room. In fact, while Zayn keeps Louis close with a hand around his wrist, he doesn't make any move towards Louis at all. The longer Louis waits, certain Zayn will give him a look or drag him away, the more annoyed he becomes.

His drink forgotten, Louis trails his hand over Zayn's body whenever he thinks he can get away with it. A lingering pat on Zayn's arse. Fingertips resting on Zayn's bare arm.

Nothing except for a slight tightening of his fingers around Louis' wrist.

He presses himself against Zayn, semi-hard and irritated, rolling his hips into Zayn's body, a brush of his lips against Zayn's jaw as he pretends to whisper to him.

Louis' about to just shove his hand into Zayn's crotch and palm him in front of whoever happens to be there, frustrated as hell, when Zayn finally turns to him, his face dark and strained. "I said I'd fuck you if you were good, Lou."

"I'm so, so good," Louis says immediately, his face brightening as he trails his hand over Zayn's thigh.

"I think you've been bad, actually," Zayn whispers into his ear, hot breath tickling his skin and making him shiver. "Trying to get me worked up in front of everyone."

Louis lets out a low, pleased laugh. "Let's grab the others. Go up to your room."

It doesn't take much persuasion to gather the others up and sneak out of the bar. Harry's happily pissed and Liam's a bit dopey, but far too responsible to get trashed when they've still got a game to play.

He vaguely hears a whispered, fraught conversation between Liam and Zayn but he's too focused on getting Zayn's dick inside to pay much attention, except Liam looks worried and Zayn looks pissed.

"I don't mind if you fuck me, Styles, but if you fall asleep on me before I've come, I'm going to kill ya," Niall says, his accent thickening with alcohol as they pile into Zayn's room.

"I won't!" Harry protests, sounding unbearably appalled at the mere suggestion. "Get your kit off and I'll show you."

Niall waggles his eyebrows but he strips easily enough as Harry jumps around the room, trying to get his joggers off. Louis falls onto the other bed, settling himself between Zayn's thighs as he pulls Liam down to settle between his legs. There's an odd tension in Zayn that Louis' never felt before, and Liam doesn't feel quite right either. But he's distracted by Niall pulling Harry down on top of him, both of them laughing because Harry's still got his boxers hanging off one ankle and he's grinning down at Niall like an excited kid.

"Gonna fuck me then?" Niall asks casually.

"Maaaaaybe," Harry teases, laughing when Niall cups the back of his head and drags him in for a kiss. Louis feels his dick twitch and slides his hands down Liam's chest, humming happily as he watches Harry sliding his tongue into Niall's mouth. His fingers reach for the hem of Liam's shirt, pulling it up and over Liam's head before his fingers dance down Liam's lovely chest again and he lets his hand slip under Liam's joggers, palming his semi through his boxers.

Zayn's hands are just resting on Louis' thighs, warm and steady as Louis glances back over to where Harry's kissing Niall's chest, his hand on Niall's dick as he strokes him enthusiastically. Louis groans, remembering how good Harry's hand felt on his dick, strong and firm and sloppy as hell. His hand helplessly jerks on Liam's dick and Liam whines, head thrown back against Louis' shoulder. There is something undeniably hot about making Liam lose control, Louis knows. He's always the most careful of all of them, so cautious and yet adventurous, all at once. Wrecking Liam is one of his very favourite things to do.

Glancing back over at Niall and Harry is a mistake, Louis realises because he becomes transfixed at the sight of Harry bobbing up and down on Niall's dick. Harry, as ever, is all tongue and saliva and absolutely no rhythm. From this angle, he can see how much Harry enjoys the way Niall bucks up into his mouth, trying to force a rhythm that Harry is studiously ignoring.

"He's such a tease," Zayn murmurs in his ear, clearly watching just as intently.

"Niall seems to be enjoying it," Louis whispers back.

He pushes down Liam's joggers and boxers, pressing a kiss against Liam's collarbone as his dick springs free. His hand wraps around Liam's shaft, his thumb brushing lightly against his tip before he slides down, jerking Liam off slowly as Niall writhes on the other bed, trying to push Harry off his dick.

"Harry, fucking just fuck me," Niall pants, sighing as he falls back against the mattress when Harry pulls off, lips red and glossy with saliva and precum. Zayn tosses him the lube and Harry's got a finger in Niall before Louis can even blink, amazed at how graceful and efficient Harry can be when he's got a purpose.

Liam's getting off to Niall's grunts, Louis realises as he speeds up his hand. Liam's head turns and Louis captures his lips in a kiss, swallowing Liam's whimpers as his body arches, tensing as he comes into Louis' fist, sticky and warm. Louis keeps kissing him as he strokes him through it, finally pulling his hand away when Liam's body relaxes against him.

"Gorgeous," Louis murmurs into Liam's ear, nuzzling against his cheek before Liam pulls away, heading for the bathroom.

"You're missing the other show," Zayn says softly, drawing Louis' gaze back to where Niall's arching on the bed, rocking himself down onto Harry's fingers. He can feel Zayn hard against his arse and he wriggles back, pleased when he hears Zayn's groans but he still doesn't make a move to touch Louis.

Niall's got his hands fisting in the sheets and he looks beautiful, flushed and red-cheeked, hair flat against his head as he swears over and over again.

"I'm ready," Niall whines so quietly Louis can barely hear him.

"Shh," Harry says, pulling out and reaching for a condom. He rolls it on and slicks himself up, throwing the lube back to Zayn before he turns back to Niall and leans down to kiss him, distracting him while he lines up and slides inside, swallowing Niall's whimpers.

Louis hears the lube bottle being opened before Zayn's whispering in his ear, ordering him to strip. Louis' naked in record time and Zayn's pushing him onto his hands and knees, climbing up behind him to drape over his back. Louis feels Zayn's hand ghost down over his arse and he shivers in anticipation.

Zayn teases his puckered hole before he pushes in, Louis grunting as he holds himself still, sighing when he feels Zayn start to move, sliding in and out.

"More?" Zayn asks and Louis bites back a groan because Zayn is awful.

"Yes," he hisses, rocking back against Zayn's hand.

Niall's making the filthiest sounds on the next bed and Louis looks over, surprised when he sees Liam sitting on the bed next to Niall, stroking him as Harry thrusts into him. Louis rocks his hips in time to Harry's thrusts. He barely notices when Zayn pushes another finger inside, just knowing that he wants _more_.

"Zayn," he whispers, letting out a whimper as Niall comes, long white streaks over his belly, followed by Harry, who flops down onto Niall's chest, looking absolutely ruined. Liam strokes Harry's hair back from his face, leaning in to kiss a barely conscious Niall softly. "Zayn, I need you to ... fuck, I'm ready. Please, please Zayn."

Zayn hums but doesn't stop thrusting his fingers inside of Louis, curving his fingers as Louis gasps, swearing as his body feels like it's on fire. Zayn pulls out and Louis falls forward onto the mattress, unable to hold himself up as he shifts his knees up, arse in the air, just waiting.

Cool, steady fingers trace his arse before he feels Zayn shift and press up against him. Zayn thrusts into him hard, making him scream as he feels like he's being split in two. Louis sees fucking stars as Zayn stills inside of him, dragging in ragged breaths until he pushes back experimentally. Zayn's hands grasp his hips and Louis moans loud and desperate when Zayn starts to move. He can feel every inch of Zayn inside of him and he's on the edge in no time, his breathing sharp and broken.

When Zayn leans down, it only takes two strokes before Louis' coming, harder than he thinks he's ever come in his life, Zayn stroking until he lets out a fractured cry. He feels the exact moment Zayn starts to come, throbbing inside of him. Louis stays where he is, unable to move when Zayn pulls out and disappears to the bathroom. Soft, tender hands clean him but he can't open his eyes, completely and utterly fucked out.

Arms lift him, ignoring his whimpered protests and lay him down on a soft pillow. Hands rub lotion against his sore arse before two bodies wrap around him, hands stroking his arms and his chest until he feels like he can breathe normally again.

He's fast asleep in seconds, safely cocooned between his boyfriends.

*

In the morning, it takes exactly five minutes of browsing on his phone for Louis to realise exactly what brought on Zayn's mood yesterday. He pauses, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his lips as he reads a trashy article about Zayn's supposed lack of commitment to the England team. Annoyed, he keeps reading as the journalist (and Louis is using the term loosely) decides that Zayn lacks focus, too swayed by his modelling contracts and various other interests outside of football, and suggests that he's replaced for the final.

The spoon falls back into the bowl, splashing milk everywhere but Louis' already heading back upstairs where he left Zayn twenty minutes ago, looking soft and younger in sleep. He wakes up Niall and Harry, showing them the article. He suspects Liam already saw something the night before and when Liam walks in from his shower, his expression gives him away.

"It got worse then," he says simply.

"Fucking idiots," is Niall's assessment.

"Load of rubbish," Harry says fiercely.

Liam moves towards Zayn, leaning down to wake him up with a soft caress on his cheek. "Zayn? Zaynie, wake up."

"Sleeping," Zayn grumbles, but he flips onto his back and cracks open an eye.

"They know," Liam says softly.

Zayn groans and shoves his head under a pillow.

Still riding a wave of indignation, Louis launches himself across the room and falls onto Zayn, grinning when he hears Zayn's soft 'oof'.

"My arse hurts," Louis declares loudly. Zayn's answering flush makes him giggle. "I see you took your frustrations out on it last night."

He only just catches the mumbled apology.

"Don't you dare apologise," he says fiercely, his hands cupping Zayn's face. "Never came so hard in my life."

Zayn opens both eyes and stares up at him, emotions swirling in his beautiful eyes. Louis presses their lips together softly. "They're the ones who need to apologise for writing that pile of trash."

"If we'd gone out ..." Zayn trails off because Harry's crawling over Louis to try and kiss him.

"If we'd gone out, we would have done as a team, not because of one stupid penalty," Harry says, and Zayn can see Liam smiling proudly behind them, a hand in Harry's curls.

"Don't worry Zayn, I'll teach you to take a decent penalty," Niall says as he lies down next to Zayn, his fingers tangling with Zayn's. "If I can teach Louis to score, I can teach anyone."

Louis turns to glare at him. "Fuck off," he mutters with little heat.

  
Niall just grins cheerfully at him with his stupid beautiful face.

*

They lose the final.

It's close, so fucking close with just a single goal deciding the winner, but they're just outclassed by a Brazilian team that was never going to let anyone stop them winning on their home ground. He's run for miles and miles and chased down everything and yet it still wasn't enough. Harry's eyes sting as he blinks quickly, burying his head in his hands as he falls to his knees.

Strong arms wrap around him, murmured words of praise in his ear as Harry clings to Liam and fights back emotion.

"You did so good," Liam tells him again and again. "Best vice-captain I've ever had. You've gotta just stay strong for a few more minutes, Harry. We just need to get our runners up medals and then we can go home."

"Runners up is pretty good," Harry says in a thick voice, shifting to press his face into Liam's neck.

"Runners up is better than I ever thought possible," Liam says with absolute sincerity. Harry would agree, except it had felt like they could really do it. Together. Next time, they might not all be here. That thought depresses Harry even more and his hands tighten around Liam's hands as he fights back a sob. "Harry, please don't cry."

"M'not," Harry says through his sniffles. He lifts his head and stares at Liam, feeling young and foolish and ridiculous. "Liam?"

"Yeah, Harry?" Liam's distracted by steering Harry towards the rest of the team, gathered in the centre circle.

"Need you to fuck me later," Harry whispers. His laugh comes so easily when Liam stumbles next to him before he finds his stride again.

"Harry, there are cameras everywhere," Liam hisses but Harry feels Liam's fingers dig into his side. "What if they caught you saying that?"

"I guess they'd know that the captain of the England football team that reached the final of the World Cup is fucking fit and irresistible and he's going to be fucking the leading scorer of the England football team that reached the final of the World Cup later tonight," Harry says, completely unrepentant because he loves it when Liam turns that particular shade of pink.

"You're awful," Liam says with a grin.

"You'll just have to punish me later," Harry says, his heart lifting a little when he hears Liam's laugh before they're swallowed up by the rest of the team.

*

It's almost five hours later before Harry feels someone press up behind him. They're at the party the FA has thrown for them and there are wives and girlfriends of the whole squad and their team. Gemma and his mum are here, flown in a few days ago with the rest of the families, but most people have headed to bed or are quietly talking amongst themselves. He leans back, smiling as he feels Liam's hands settle on his waist gently.

"Wanna get out of here?" Liam asks quietly. "Just the two of us?"

"Where are the others?" Harry asks, turning around and shamelessly letting his hips roll forward, brushing against Liam's.

"Louis and Niall have just snuck back into the party," Liam says, gesturing behind him. Louis' lips look bruised and puffy and Niall's grin is electric, so Harry's pretty sure he knows what they've been up to. "Zayn thinks he can convince them to come back to his room for a threesome later."

"Won't need much persuading," Harry snorts, his index finger trailing down Liam's arm. "So just the two of us."

"If you like," Liam says carefully. Harry snorts again because while all his boyfriends are ridiculous, Liam might just be the most ridiculous.

"What I'd like," Harry says slowly, leaning in until he's whispering in Liam's ear, "is for you to fuck me until I can't breathe or think. I want you to fuck me so I can't remember anything but you."

When he pulls back, Liam's staring at him with darkened eyes. He waits silently, the seconds ticking past.

Liam's hand circles around his wrist and he feels himself being tugged none too gently towards the door. He tries to hide his grin but it's impossible, because all he's seen of Liam is sweetness and softness in bed. The unyielding grip Liam's got around his wrist suggests that there's more sides to Liam than he lets them see. Harry can't wait to unearth them.

The elevator ride is painfully silent, only Liam's drumming fingers on his thigh disturbing the peace. Once Liam has the door to his room open, Harry steps inside, already thrumming with expectation.

He's pulled back against Liam's hard, firm body, a low chuckle escaping his lips as Liam's hands drop to his hips, pinning him in place. Lips graze his neck as Liam reaches for the hem of his shirt, whipping it over Harry's head and falling carelessly to the floor. Liam's deft fingers make short work of his belt and fly, yanking everything down until Harry's completely naked and Liam pulls him back again.

"You're fully clothed," Harry complains as Liam's hands slide slowly down his torso and hips, making him arch back against Liam.

"You wanted me to fuck you til you couldn' t think," Liam reminds him in a low voice Harry's never heard him use before. He shivers as Liam's hand closes around his semi-hard dick. "How many times can you come in a night, do you think?"

Harry swears loudly as Liam strokes him once before his hand releases Harry, dropping down to cup his balls and massage them in his hand.

"I think three would probably be enough to make you forget everything except my name," Liam whispers as his hand moves back up to grip his cock. Harry's already breathless, his mind hazy from what Liam's promising, suddenly desperate to just hand himself over to whatever Liam wants to do to him.

"Liam," Harry breathes as Liam's free hand smoothes over his chest, his nail raking over Harry's nipple and making him cry out. He rocks his hips up, whimpering as Liam squeezes him gently.

"You wanna come now?" Liam asks, still in that husky, low voice. "So quickly?"

"Yes," Harry groans, tipping his head back onto Liam's shoulder and turning his head. Liam's lips fasten onto his, firm and fast, his hand cupping Harry's face and holding him just where Liam wants him. Liam's tongue darts into his mouth just as his hand speeds up on Harry's cock. When Liam starts fucking his tongue against Harry's, he starts to tremble, spreading his legs a little wider.

He can feel Liam's dick pressing into his arse, straining against the denim of Liam's jeans. He breaks the kiss, breathless as he grinds back against Liam. Liam rolls his hips slowly, making Harry gasp as he starts to fall apart. He reaches out to grab hold of something, anything to keep his balance as his legs start to give out on him but Liam doesn't let him go.

Two rough jerks on his cock make him come with a desperate whine, hands gripping around Liam's forearm as Liam whispers encouragements in his ear. "So pretty like this, Harry. So gorgeous, watching you come into my hand."

He slumps back against Liam, realising that Liam's iron grip around his waist is the only thing keeping him upright. When Liam lifts his hand to his mouth, Harry turns to watch through lidded eyes as he licks himself clean. When his dick twitches, Harry silently groans, swearing that he can't be ready again so quickly. Instead, he turns in Liam's arms and pushes him gently back against the door, pressing their lips together and licking into his mouth, tasting himself on Liam's lips and on Liam's tongue.

Liam lets the kiss turn lazy, both of them just slowly grinding their hips together with no real intent. Liam's fingers stroke idle patterns against Harry's back and Harry slowly unbuttons Liam's shirt, pushing it back over his shoulders and letting Liam shrug out of it.

With Liam shirtless, Harry breaks the kiss and trails his lips down to Liam's chest, pressing careful butterfly kisses across tanned skin. His fingers fumble on the zip of Liam's jeans but he eventually pulls it down and wriggles them down past Liam's hips.

"You ready for round two, babe?" Liam asks softly, nudging his nose against Harry's cheek before he pulls back to step out of his jeans and boxers.

"Lube's in my pocket," Harry mumbles, grinning as he hears Liam's chuckle. It takes him a few seconds to dig out the tiny bottle and a condom before he crowds Harry back against the wall. "Should I tell you know that I've already fingered myself open?"

Liam's head rears back, eyes dark as he searches Harry's gaze. "Yeah?"

"Earlier during the party. Sneaked to the loos and did it," Harry admits shamelessly. "Didn't want to wait."

"And what if I'd wanted to spend hours opening you up?" Liam asks, hands smoothing over Harry's hips before he lets go to roll on a condom and hands the lube to Harry. He reaches down eagerly, coating Liam's dick with far too much lube, but he's too excited to care all that much. "Spending hours between your thighs, giving you so much attention."

"Next time, I swear," Harry promises fervently, feeling shaky all over at the mere thought.

"You're such a needy, spoiled brat," Liam mutters just as his hands grip Harry's thighs, making him gasp. "Up."

Harry's eyes widen as he tries to read Liam's expression. Heart pounding, he puts his hands on Liam's broad shoulders and hops up, wrapping his legs around Liam's waist as Liam reaches out behind him to leverage them against the wall.

"Fuck, Liam," Harry swears breathlessly. He's embarrassingly hard already, his dick caught between them. He's never had it like this, never been with anyone strong enough to hold him up. His back flattens against the wall and he keeps his hands steady on Liam's shoulders, fucking desperate to have this.

"Gonna make you beg," Liam whispers in his ear. Harry jerks in his arms, ready to beg. Ready to do whatever it takes to get Liam to just fuck him right now. "Hold on babe."

He flexes his thighs around Liam's hips as his hands slide around Liam's shoulders, locking them together. Liam's finger taps against his lips and he opens his mouth, sucking hard as his eyes roll back helplessly. Liam slides another finger inside his mouth and Harry's not sure which one of them is panting, or whether it's both of them. Liam's fingers fuck into his mouth until Harry can feel his dick leaking against his belly and he whines feebly.

When Liam pulls them out, Harry's head falls forward onto Liam's shoulder, so worked up he's barely able to breathe. "Please Liam, please!"

"Soon babe," Liam murmurs because he's a fucking tease and awful and Harry almost hates him for it. Except then he feels Liam's fingers pressing carefully against his hole and he rears up, head smacking against the wall before he pushes down, Liam's fingers easily sliding inside of him. "Fuck, Harry. You're ..."

"Wide open," Harry laughs breathlessly before his breath catches as Liam's fingers hit just the right angle. "Wanted you to fuck me, Liam. Couldn't stop," he pauses to moan loudly because Liam's fingers are fucking magical, "thinking about it. Wanting it. Had to go to the bathroom to get myself off because I was so hard."

Liam falls forward, crushing Harry against the wall before he catches himself and pushes back, hefting Harry back up as his fingers slide out of Harry's arse. "Shit, sorry."

Harry kisses him messily, trying to draw him closer. "Had my fingers inside me while I jerked off, thinking about this."

He hears Liam's low growl against his lips, making him feel light-headed. A pat on his arse has him lifting up, whimpering as he feels Liam's tip skate across his hole before Liam's hands grip Harry's hips and lower him down carefully. Harry's shaking, both with the effort of holding himself up and from the feel of Liam sliding inside of him, filling him up. Liam doesn't stop, not until Harry feels like he can't take anymore, Liam's hands sliding under his arse to hold him up.

"Are you still thinking?" Liam asks huskily.

Harry shakes his head, eyes closed, arms firmly locked around Liam's strong shoulders. "Liam," is all he says, voice shaking as he pleads.

"Good," Liam whispers before his teeth sink into Harry's collarbone, making him cry out before he snaps his hips and everything goes white. It's too much and not enough. Harry knows he's being loud but he doesn't care. Liam's pounding into him, not giving him a second to breathe and all he can do is hold on. He feels like his whole body is on fire, unbelievably full and all he can think about is Liam.

It's everything he needed. To be so full of Liam that he can't remember anything else. He's so fucking thankful for everything he's found in these boys that he's overwhelmed every time he sees them.

When he teeters on the edge, his eyes fly open, catching Liam's dark, hungry gaze and he lets Liam see him fall apart, coming untouched for the second time, their bellies slick with his come.

"Fuck," Liam swears as his fingers bite into Harry's arse and he pumps his hips once, twice, and comes on the third with a hoarse cry as Harry tries to wrap himself around Liam as best he can, trembling as he curls around Liam's sweat-slick body. Harry can feel Liam sliding out of him and he tries to protest but he's still trying to catch his breath, still trying to remember how to control his body as Liam lowers him carefully to the floor, his legs wobbly as he holds onto Liam's arms.

He hears Liam tying off the condom and he's prepared to beg Liam to carry him to bed, still not sure he's capable of conscious thought when Liam's lips slide against his. He kisses him back fervently, trying to say everything he can't with his kiss. It's a thank you and you're wonderful and our secret, all at once.

Harry's barely aware of Liam lifting him up and carrying him into the bathroom, the sound of running water or being carefully lifted into the shower. He lets Liam clean him up, certain there's a dopey, soft look on his face. He kisses Liam whenever his lips come within reach and lets Liam dry them both off before he's being carried to bed, Liam spooning around him with a kiss to his shoulder.

*

When he wakes up, it's still dark and it takes half a second to realise Liam's got his lips wrapped around his dick. His hips twitch but Liam's got his hands pinning Harry to the mattress. Liam looks up and pulls off, lips slick and swollen, grinning happily. "Promised you'd come three times."

Harry wants to laugh and groan all at once, managing neither as he reaches down to twist his fingers in Liam's messy hair, urging him gently on.

He fucking loves Liam's commitment to his word.

 *

They prolong their stay for as long as possible, seeing the sights and taking selfies at every possible tourist spot, with Harry teasing Liam about calling Christ the Redeemer "Mr Jesus" and they rent out a boat for the day and laze around in various states of undress. They all tease Zayn for looking like a model. He swears he's just sunbathing but Niall accuses him of posing and it ends with Niall, Zayn and Harry in the water and Liam and Louis looking horribly pleased with themselves, slapping each other on the back. But eventually they have to head home for pre-season training and Harry spends most of their last day together pouting, ignoring Niall's pleas for him to enjoy their last day together.

But no matter how much Harry pouts, he still has to head back to Liverpool, miles away from all of them and he refuses to pretend that it's okay. He refuses to pretend anything's okay if he's not able to touch his boyfriends. To kiss them good morning and good night. To shout at them for being messy and to wheedle cups of tea out of them.

All he takes home is his runners up medal, Zayn's Nirvana shirt that smells like Zayn and sex that he's holding hostage in the hopes that Zayn comes looking for it sooner rather than later, and a heavy heart. 

**EPILOGUE**

Louis' heart is racing. He's sweaty and filthy and he's never felt so good in his fucking life. He reaches down to stroke Liam's hair idly, wondering how it's possible that they spent so many years knowing each other and _not_ fucking. How he could have wasted so much time not winding Liam up so beautifully until Liam dragged him to bed. Or the sofa. Or the kitchen table, depending on where they were when Liam reached his breaking point. "Feel better?" he asks, voice still husky.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes," Liam murmurs into his skin, and Louis feels the kiss he brushes over his hip.

"You were being unbearable with all that cleaning and pacing," Louis points out. Distracting Liam is one of his very favourite things to do, something that became so much easier when Louis gave up pretending that he lived in his own flat sometime around the end of September and just moved into Liam's place because of course Liam owned an actual house, rather than the bachelor pad Louis had been calling home. They haven't exactly made it common knowledge, but enough of his teammates have called him and heard Liam in the background or seen Liam pick him up after training to at least have an idea. And aside for the fact that Liam plays for their most bitter rivals and the endless teasing Louis receives about _that_ , no one's really said anything or changed their behaviour towards him.

He thinks being a World Cup Runner Up probably helps, but he's not complaining.

What he has been complaining about, quite vocally and often, according to Liam, is how hard it's been trying to see the rest of the boys. Zayn and Harry have managed to see each other a few times, being that they're nearest to each other, but poor Niall calls them all every day, sends endless texts and snapchats and has become quite the expert at getting off over Skype. They all have, really. He had the best Skype with Harry just two days ago. Harry had to buy a new iPad, much to Louis' delight and amusement.

Around Christmas, when they'd had a break and Liam had invited everyone to theirs and after two days when they'd finally emerged from the bedroom, all bruised and marked, tired and hungry but happier than they'd been since July before they'd had to fly back for pre-season training, Harry had announced he was putting in a transfer request for a London team. Niall had immediately sent a text to his agent, requesting the same.

"Are you sure?" Liam had asked worriedly. Niall had just flung himself in his lap and kissed his neck, telling Liam to clear the back bedroom so he can move his stuff in. "Yeah, yeah course," Liam had said without a second thought. Harry wanted to know if Liam had strong thoughts about loft conversions because he fancied a room with a skylight.

Louis' not sure he's ever seen Liam look so stupidly happy before.

Zayn had been the last to decide, although Louis thinks that's just because he's a stubborn twat who likes to pretend to take his time when he makes a decision. The first they'd heard of it was on the news on transfer deadline day when it was announced that Zayn Malik had signed for Chelsea, which is where Niall was also heading, while Harry was joining Louis at Arsenal.

Apparently he wanted to share Niall's room.

Twenty minutes later and they're standing together, Liam's arms wrapped around Louis' waist as they stare out the window, having given up any pretense that they weren't just counting down the minutes until the others arrived in their hired car.

"I think maybe I've always loved you a little bit," Louis says quietly. "Back at West Ham. I think I loved you then, you know."

Liam's silent for a moment, before Louis feels the gentlest brush of lips against his neck and he leans back, Liam's cheek resting against his. "Me too," Liam murmurs. "Me too, Lou."

The doorbell rings, startling them out of the moment. Sheepishly, Louis reaches for the door and he has his arms full with Niall and Harry, while Zayn grabs Liam and snogs him up against the front door, bags thrown in every direction. It's probably a rash, terrible decision, all of them setting up house together and moving clubs to be together, but Louis doesn't much care, not when Niall's sticking his tongue down his throat and Harry's trying to undress him while asking politely how his day has been.

Right now, it seems like the best decision any of them have ever made.


End file.
